IRLF 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


' 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


BY 


REV.  E.  P.  ROE, 

Author  of  "Barriers  Burned  Away?  "  What  Can  She  Do?  "  "Play 
and  Profit  in  my  Garden? 


As  woman  from  the  Garden  of  the  Lord 
Led  fallen  man  in  sorrow,  fear  and  shame. 

To  where,  unblest,  he  saw  the  burning  sword 
Between  lost  Eden  and  the  desert  flame ; 

So  still  she  leads,  and  though  at  times  from  good; 

She  now  supremely  holds  the  sacred  power. 
To  win  from  deserts  where  the  exiles  brood, 

And  lead  them  back  within  their  ancient  dower. 


NEW  YORK: 
DODD  &  MEAD,  PUBLISHERS, 

762  BROADWAY. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tne  year  1874,  by 

DODD  ft  HEAD, 
hi  th*  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


.  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


MY  WIFE. 


PREFACE. 


IN  sending  this,  my  fourth  venture,  out  upon  the 
uncertain  waters  of  public  opinion,  I  shall  say 
but  few  words  of  preface.  In  the  past  I  have  re 
ceived  considerable  well-deserved  criticism  from  the 
gentlemen  of  the  caustic  pen,  but  so  far  from  hav 
ing  any  hard  feeling  towards  them,  I  have  rather 
wondered  that  they  found  so  much  to  say  that  was 
favorable.  How  they  will  judge  this  simple  Oc 
tober  story  (if  they  think  it  worth  while  to  judge 
it  at  all)  I  leave  to  the  future,  and  turn  to  those  for 
whom  the  book  was  really  written. 

In  fancy,  I  see  them  around  the  glowing  hearth 
of  quiet  homes,  such  as  I  have  tried  to  describe  in  the 
following  pages,  and  hope  that  this  new  comer  will 
be  welcomed  for  the  sake  of  those  that  preceded  it. 
Possibly  it  may  make  friends  of  its  own. 

From  widely  separated  parts  of  the  country,  and 
from  almost  every  class,  I  have  received  many  and 
cordial  assurances  that  my  former  books  were  not 
only  sources  of  pleasure,  but  also  of  help  and  bene 
fit,  and  I  am  deeply  grateful  for  the  privilege  of 
unobtrusively  entering  so  many  households,  and 
saying  words  on  that  subject  which  is  inseparable 
from  happiness  in  both  worlds. 


8  PREFACE. 

I  think  the  purpose  of  the  book  will  become 
apparent  to  the  reader.  The  incidents  and  charac 
ters  are  mainly  imaginary. 

Observation  has  shown  me  that  there  are  many 
in  the  world,  like  my  hero,  whose  condition  can  be 
illustrated  by  the  following  lines : 

Were  some  great  ship  all  out  of  stores, 

When  half  way  o'er  the  sea, 
Fit  emblem  of  too  many  lives, 
Such  vessel  doomed  would  be. 

Must  there  not  be  something  fatally  wrong  in 
that  scheme  of  life  which  finds  an  heir  of  eternity 
weary,  listless,  discouraged,  while  yet  in  the  dawn 
ing  of  existence?  It  is  not  in  perishing  things, 
merely,  to  give  back  the  lost  zest.  But  a  glad  zest 
and  hopefulness  might  be  inspired  even  in  the  most 
jaded  and  ennui-cursed,  were  there  in  our  homes 
such  simple,  truthful  natures,  as  that  of  my  heroine  ; 
and  in  the  sphere  of  quiet  homes — not  elsewhere — 
I  believe  that  woman  can  best  rule  and  save  the 
world. 

WEST  POINT,  September,  1874. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Pxea 
A  HERO  BUT  NOT  HEROIC 13 

CHAPTER  II. 
OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR 32 

CHAPTER  III. 
MORBID  BROODING ^ 47 

CHAPTER  IV. 
How  Miss  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE 54 

CHAPTER  V. 
WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT? « 62 

CHAPTER  VI. 
UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS 70 

CHAPTER  VII. 

ACONSPIRACY 8O 


I0  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAG  a 

WITCHCRAFT 94 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Miss  WALTON  ADVISES  A  HOBBY 105 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  PLOT  AGAINST  Miss  WALTON in 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  DRINKING  SONG  AT  A  PRAYER-MEETING 119 

CHAPTER  XII. 
FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION. 128 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS 141 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  WELL-MEANIN'  MAN 158 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Miss  WALTON'S  DREAM 170 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 191 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
PROMISE  OR  DIK 204 


CONTENTS.  II 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAGB 

IN  THE  DEPTHS 222 

* 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Miss  WALTON  MADE  OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY  FROM  OTHERS....  236 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Miss  WALTON  MADE  OF  ORDINARY  CLAY 257 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
PASSION  AND  -PENITENCE 278 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
NOT  A  HEROINE  BUT*  A  WOMAN*. 294 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
GREGORY'S  FINAL  CONCLUSION 3IQ 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  WORM-INFESTED  CHESTNUT— GREGORY  TELLS  THE  WORST.  322 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
THE  OLD  HOME  IN  DANGER — GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  348 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
CHANGES  IN  GREGORY , 37* 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
PLEADING  FOR  LII-E  AND  LOVE. 384 


12  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

PAOB 
WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  no 399 

CHAPTER  XXIX, 
DEFENDING  SHADOWS 418 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL 440 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
LIVE  !  LIVE  !  ANNIE'S  APPEAL 454 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
AT  SEA — A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER * 488 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  COLLISION  AT  SEA— WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO 504 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

UXMASKED S^S 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
A  CHESTNUT  BURR  AND  A  HOME «  ....  $48 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


CHAPTER  I. 
'A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC. 

*  O  HALL  I  ever  be  strong  in  mind  or  body  again  ?  " 
said   Walter    Gregory  with   irritation    as   he 
left  the  sidewalk  and  crowded  into  a  Broadway  om 
nibus. 

The  person  thus  querying  so  despairingly  with 
himself  was  a  man  not  far  from  thirty  years  of  age, 
but  the  lines  of  care  were  furrowed  so  deeply  on  his 
handsome  face  that  dismal,  lowering  morning,  the 
first  of  October,  that  he  seemed  much  older.  Hav 
ing  wedged  himself  in  between  two  burly  forms  that 
suggested  thrift  down  town  and  good  cheer  on  the 
Avenue,  he  appears  meagre  and  shrunken  in  con 
trast.  Though  tall,  he  is  thin.  His  face  is  white 
and  drawn  instead  of  being  ruddy  with  health's  rich 
warm  blood.  There  is  scarcely  anything  remaining 
reminding  one  of  the  period  of  youth,  so  recently  van 
ished  ;  neither  is  there  the  dignity  and  conscious 
ness  of  strength  that  should  come  with  maturer 
years.  His  heavy  light-colored  moustache  and  pal- 


14  OPENING  A,  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

lid  face  gave  him  the  aspect  of  the  blase*  man  of 
the  world  who  had  exhausted  himself  and  life  at  an 
age  when  wisely  directed  manhood  should  be  just 
entering  on  its  richest  pleasures. 

And  such  an  opinion  of  him  would  be  correct 
with  some  hopeful  exceptions  and  indications.  The 
expression  of  irritation  and  self-disgust  still  remain 
ing  on  his  face  as  the  stage  rumbles  down  town  is  a 
hopeful  sign.  His  soul  at  least  is  not  surrounded 
by  a  Chinese  wall  of  conceit.  However  perverted 
his  nature  may  be  it  is  not  a  shallow  one,  and  he 
evidently  has  a  painful  sense  of  the  wrongs  commit 
ted  against  it.  Though  his  square  jaw  and  the 
curve  of  his  lip  indicate  firmness,  one  could  not  look 
upon  his  contracted  brow  and  half-despairing  ex 
pression,  as  he  sits  oblivious  of  all  surroundings, 
without  thinking  of  a  ship  drifting  helplessly  and  in 
distress.  There  are  encouraging  possibilities  in  the 
fact  that  from  those  windows  of  the  soul,  his  eyes,  a 
troubled  rather  than  an  evil  spirit  looks  out.  A 
close  observer  would  see  at  a  glance  that  he  was  not 
a  good  man,  but  he  might  also  note  that  he  was  not 
content  with  being  a  bad  one.  There  was  little  of 
the  rigid  pride  and  sinister  hardness  or  the  conceit 
often  seen  on  the  faces  of  men  of  the  world  who 
have  spent  years  in  spoiling  their  manhood  ;  and 
the  sensual  phase  of  coarse  dissipation  was  quite 
wanting. 

You  will  and  in  artificial  metropolitan  society 
many  men  so  emasculated  that  they  are  quite  vain 
that  they  are  blase*,  and  who,  with  conscious  super- 


A  rr£RO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  15 

iority,  smile  disdainfully  at  those  still  possessing  sim 
ple,  wholesome  tastes  for  things  which  they  in  their 
indescribable  accent  characterize  as  a  "  bore." 

But  Walter  Gregory  looked  as  one  who  early 
found  the  dregs  of  evil  life  very  bitter,  and  his  face 
was  like  that  of  nature  when  smitten  with  untimely 
frosts. 

He  reached  his  office  at  last,  and  wearily  sat 
down  to  the  routine  work  at  his  desk.  Instead  of 
the  intent  and  interested  look  with  which  a  young 
and  healthful  man  would  naturally  enter  on  his  bus 
iness,  his  manner  was  rather  that  of  dogged  resolu 
tion  to  work  whether  he  felt  -like  it  or  not,  and  with 
harsh  disregard  of  his  physical  weakness. 

The  world  will  never  cease  witnessing  the  wrongs 
that  men  commit  against  each  other ;  but  perhaps 
if  the  wrongs  and  cruelties  that  people  inflict  on 
themselves  could  be  summed  up  the  painful  aggre 
gate  would  be  much  larger. 

As  Gregory  sat  bending  over  his  writing,  more 
from  weakness  than  from  a  stooping  habit,  his  senior 
partner  came  in,  and  seemingly  was  struck  by  the 
appearance  of  illness  and  feebleness  on  the  part  of 
the  young  man.  The  unpleasant  impression  haun 
ted  him,  for  having  looked  over  his  letters  he  came 
out  of  his  private  office  and  again  glanced  uneasily 
at  the  colorless  face,  which  gave  evidence  that  only 
sheer  force  of  will  was  spurring  a  failing  hand  and 
brain  to  their  tasks. 

At  last  Mr.  Burnett  came  and  laid  his  hand  on 
on  his  junior  partner's  shoulder,  saying  kindly : 


1 6  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Come,  Gregory,  drop  your  work.  You  are  ilL 
The  strain  upon  you  has  been  too  long  and  severe. 
The  worst  is  over  now,  and  we  are  going  to  pull 
through  better  than  I  expected.  Don't  take  the 
matter  so  bitterly  to  heart.  I  admit  myself  that  the 
operation  promised  well  at  first.  You  were  misled, 
and  so  were  we  all,  by  downright  deception.  That 
the  swindle  was  imposed  on  us  through  you  was 
more  your  misfortune  than  fault,  and  it  will  make 
you  a  keener  business  man  in  the  future.  You  have 
worked  like  a  galley-slave  all  summer  to  retrieve 
matters,  and  have  taken  no  vacation  at  all.  You 
must  take  one  now  immediately,  or  you  will  break 
down  altogether.  Go  off  to  the  woods — fish,  hunt, 
follow  your  fancies :  and  the  bracing  October  air  will 
make  a  new  man  of  you." 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,"  Gregory  began.  "  I 
suppose  I  do  need  rest.  In  a  few  days  I  can  better 
leave " 

"  No,"  interrupted  Mr.  Burnett,  with  hearty  em 
phasis  ;  "  drop  everything.  You  know  I  like  things 
done  right  away.  As  soon  as  you  finish  that  letter 
be  off.  Don't  show  your  face  here  again  till  Nov 
ember." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  interest  in  me,"  said 
Gregory,  rising.  "  Indeed,  I  believe  it  would  be 
good  economy,  for  if  I  don't  feel  better  soon  I  shall 
be  of  no  use  here  or  anywhere  else." 

"That's  it,"  said  old  Mr.  Burnett  kindly;  "sick 
and  blue,  they  go  together.  Now  be  off  to  the 
woods,  and  send  me  some  game.  I  won't  inquire 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  if 

too  sharply  whether  you  brought  it  down  with  lead 
or  silver." 

Walter  soon  left  the  office,  and  made  his  arrange 
ments  to  start  on  his  trip  early  the  next  morning. 
His  purpose  was  to  make  a  brief  visit  to  the  home 
of  his  boyhood  and  then  to  go  wherever  a  vagrant 
fancy  might  lead. 

The  ancestral  place  was  no  longer  in  his  family, 
though  he  was  spared  the  pain  of  seeing  it  pass  into 
the  hands  of  strangers.  It  had  been  purchased  a 
few  years  since  by  an  old  and  very  dear  friend  of  his 
deceased  father — a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Wal 
ton.  It  had  so  happened  that  Walter  had  rarely 
met  his  father's  friend,  who  had  been  engaged  in 
business  at  the  West,  and  of  his  family  he  knew 
little  more  than  that  there  were  two  daughters — 
one  that  had  married  a  Southern  gentleman,  and 
one,  much  younger,  residing  with  her  father.  Wal 
ter  had  been  much  abroad  as  the  European  agent  of 
his  house,  and  it  was  during  this  absence  that  Mr. 
Walton  had  retired  from  business  and  purchased  the 
old  Gregory  homestead.  Walter  felt  sure,  however, 
that  though  a  comparative  stranger  himself  he  would, 
for  his  father's  sake,  be  a  welcome  visitor  at  the 
home  of  his  childhood.  At  any  rate  he  determined 
to  test  the  matter,  for  the  moment  he  found  himself 
at  liberty  he  felt  a  strange  and  eager  longing  to  re 
visit  the  scenes  of  the  happiest  portion  of  his  life. 
He  had  meant  to  pay  such  a  visit  in  the  previous 
spring,  soon  after  his  arrival  from  Europe,  when  his 
elation  at  being  made  partner  in  the  house  which  he 


!8  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

so  long  had  served  as  clerk  reached  almost  the  point 
of  happiness. 

Among  those  who  had  welcomed  him  back,  was 
a  man  little  older  than  himself,  who,  in  his  ab 
sence,  had  become  known  as  a  successful  operator 
in  Wall  Street.  They  had  been  quite  intimate 
before  Walter  went  abroad,  and  the  friendship  was 
renewed  at  once.  Gregory  quite  prided  himself  on 
his  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  was  not  one  by 
nature  inclined  to  make  hasty  trust ;  and  yet  he 
did  place  implicit  confidence  in  Mr.  Hunting,  and 
regarded  him  as  a  much  better  man  than  himself, 
for  he  was  quite  an  active  member  of  a  church,  and 
his  name  figured  on  several  charities,  while  Walter 
had  almost  ceased  attending  any  place  of  worship, 
and  spent  his  money  selfishly  upon  himself,  or  fool 
ishly  upon  others,  giving  only  as  prompted  by  some 
passing  impulse.  Indeed,  Mr.  Hunting  had  occasion 
ally  ventured  to  remonstrate  with  him  against  his 
tendencies  to  dissipation,  saying  that  a  young  man 
of  his  prospects  should  not  damage  them  for  the 
sake  of  passing  gratification.  Now,  Gregory  was 
exceedingly  ambitious  and  bent  upon  accumulating 
wealth,  and  making  a  brilliant  figure  in  business 
circles. 

In  addition  to  the  ordinary  motives  which  would 
naturally  lead  him  to  desire  such  success  he  was  in 
cited  by  a  secret  one  more  powerful  than  the  others 
combined. 

Before  going  abroad,  when  but  a  clerk,  he  had 
been  the  favored  suitor  of  a  beautiful  and  accom- 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC, 


plished  girl.  Indeed,  the  understanding  between 
them  almost  amounted  to  an  engagement,  and  he 
revelled  in  a  passionate,  romantic  attachment  at  an 
age  when  the  blood  is  hot,  the  heart  enthusiastic. 
and  not  a  particle  of  worldly  cynicism  and  adverse 
experience  had  taught  him  to  moderate  his  rose- 
hued  anticipations.  She  seemed  the  embodiment 
of  goodness,  as  well  as  beauty  and  grace,  for  did  she 
not  repress  his  tendencies  to  be  a  little  fast  ?  Did 
she  not  with  more  than  sisterly  solicitude,  counsel 
him  to  shun  certain  florid  youth  whose  premature 
blossoming  indicated  that  they  might  early  run  to 
seed  ?  and  did  he  not,  in  consequence,  cut  Guy 
Bummer,  the  jolliest  fellow  he  ever  knew  ?  Indeed, 
more  than  all,  had  she  not  ventured  to  talk  religion 
to  him,  so  that  for  a  time,  he  regarded  himself  in  a 
very  "  hopeful  frame  of  mind  "  and  was  quite  inclin 
ed  to  take  a  mission  class  in  the  same  school  with 
herself?  How  lovely  and  angelic  she  once  appeared 
stooping  in  elegant  costume  from  her  social  height 
to  the  little  ragamuffins  of  the  streets  that  sat  gap 
ing  around  her  ?  As  he  gazed  adoringly,  while  wait 
ing  to  be  her  escort  home,  his  young  heart  swelled 
with  the  impulse  to  be  good  and  noble  also. 

But  one  day  she  caused  him  to  drop  out  of  his 
roseate  clouds  with  a  terrible  fall.  With  much 
sweetness  and  resignation,  and  with  appropriate 
sighs,  she  said  that  "  it  was  her  painful  duty  to  tell 
him  that  their  intimacy  must  cease  —  that  she  had 
received  an  offer  from  Mr.  Grobb,  and  that  her  par 
ents,  and,  indeed,  all  of  her  friends,  had  urged  her 


20  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

to  accept  him.  She  had  been  led  to  feel  that  they, 
with  their  riper  experience  and  knowledge  of  life, 
knew  what  was  best  for  her,  and  therefore  she  had 
yielded  to  their  wishes  and  accepted  the  offer."  She 
was  commencing  to  add,  in  a  sentimental  tone,  that 
had  "  she  only  followed  the  leadings  of  her  heart " — 
when  Walter,  at  first  too  stunned  and  bewildered  to 
speak,  recovered  his  senses  and  interrupted  with  : 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  your  heart,  Miss  Bently. 
Why  mention  so  small  a  matter  ?  Go  on  with  your 
sale  by  all  means.  I  am  a  business  man  myself,  and 
do  not  feel  called  upon  to  interfere  with  any  man's 
bargain,  even  though  he  is  getting  cheated."  And  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  from  the  room,  leaving 
Miss  Bently  quite  ill  at  ease.  The"  young  man's  first 
expression  of  having  received,  as  it  were,  a  stagger 
ing  blow  and  then  his  bitter  satire  made  quite  an  im 
pression  on  her  cotton  and  wool  nature,  and  for  a 
time  her  transaction  with  Mr.  Grobb  did  not  wear  the 
aspect  in  which  it  had  been  presented  by  her  friends. 
But  her  little  world  so  confidently  and  continually 
reiterated  the  statement  that  she  had  made  a  "  splen 
did  match"  that  her  qualms  vanished,  and  she  felt 
that  what  all  asserted  must  be  true,  and  so  entered 
on  the  gorgeous  preparations  as  if  the  wedding  were 
all  and  the  man  nothing. 

It  is  the  custom  to  satirize  or  bitterly  denounce 
such  girls,  but  perhaps  they  are  more  to  be  pitied. 
They  are  the  natural  products  of  artificial  society,  in 
which  wealth,  show,  and  the  social  eminence  which 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  2l 

is  based  on  dress  and  establishment  are  held  out  as 
the  prizes  of  a  woman's  existence.  The  only  won 
der  is  that  so  much  heart  and  truth  assert  themselves 
among  those  who  all  their  life  have  seen  wealth 
practically  worshipped,  and  worth,  ungilded,  pract 
ically  snubbed.  From  ultra  fashionable  circles  a  girl 
is  often  seen  developing  into  the  noblest  woman 
hood,  while  narrow,  mercenary  natures  are  found 
where  far  better  things  might  have,  been  expected. 
If  such  girls  as  Miss  Bently  could  only  be  kept 
quietly  one  side,  like  a  bale  of  merchandise,  till 
wanted,  it  would  not  be  so  bad  ;  but  some  of  them 
are  such  brilliant  belles  and  incorrigible  coquettes 
that  they  are  like  certain  Wall  Street  speculators 
who  threaten  to  "break  the  street"  in  making  their 
own  fortunes. 

Some  natures  can  pocket  a  fair  lady's  refusal 
with  a  good-natured  shrug  as  merely  a  bad  venture 
and  hope  for  better  luck  next  time,  but  more  can 
not,  especially  if  they  are  played  with  and  deceived. 
Walter  Gregory  pre-eminently  belonged  to  the  latter 
class.  In  early  life  he  had  breathed  the  very  atmos 
phere  of  truth,  and  his  tendency  to  sincerity  ever 
remained  the  best  element  of  his  character.  His 
was  one  of  those  fine-fibred  natures,  most  susceptible 
to  serious  wounding  and  injury.  Up  to  this  time 
his  indiscretions  had  only  been  those  of  foolish, 
thoughtless  youth,  while  aiming  at  the  standard  of 
manliness  and  style  in  vogue  among  his  city  com 
panions.  High-spirited  young  fellows,  not  early 
braced  by  principle,  must  pass  through  this  phass  as 


22  OPENING    A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

in  babyhood  they  cut  their  teeth.  If  there  is  true 
metal  in  them  and  they  are  not  perverted  by  excep 
tionally  bad  influences  they  outgrow  the  idea  that  to 
be  fast  and  foolish  is  to  be  men  as  naturally  as  they 
do  their  roundabouts. 

It  is  often  not  so  much  what  a  man  does  as  the 
state  of  the  heart  that  prompts  the  act.  In  common 
parlance,  Walter  was  as  good-hearted  a  fellow  as 
ever  breathed.  Indeed  he  was  quite  inclined  to 
noble  enthusiasms. 

If  Miss  Bently  had  been  what  he  imagined  her, 
she  might  have  led  him  swiftly  and  surely  into  true 
manhood  ;  but  she  was  only  an  adept  at  pretty 
seeming  with  him,  and  when  Mr.  Grobb  offered  her 
his  vast  wealth,  with  himself  as  the  only  incum- 
brance,  she  was  at  once  herself,  and  closed  the  bar 
gain  promptly. 

But  perhaps  it  can  be  safely  said,  that  in  no  den 
of  iniquity  in  the  city  could  Walter  Gregory  have 
received  such  moral  injury  as  poisoned  his  very  soul 
when,  in  Mr.  Bently's  elegant  and  respectable  par 
lor  the  "  angel  "  he  worshipped  "  explained  how 
she  was  situated/'  and  from  a  "  sense  of  duty " 
stated  her  purpose  to  yield  to  the  wishes  of  her 
friends.  Walter  had  seen  Mr.  Grobb  quite  often, 
but  had  given  him  no  thought,  supposing  him  some 
elderly  relative  of  the  family.  That  he  was  the 
accepted  suitor  of  the  girl  who  had  sung  for  him 
sentimental  ballads  with  tender,  meaning  glances, 
who  had  sweetly  talked  to  him  of  religion  and  mis 
sion  work,  seemed  a  monstrous  perversion.  Call  it 


A   HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  23 

unjust,  unreasonable,  if  you  will,  and  yet  it  was  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  one  possessing 
his  sensitive,  intense  nature  to  pass  into  harsh,  bitter 
cynicism  and  to  regard  Miss.  Bently  as  a  type  of 
the  girl  of  the  period. 

A  young  man  is  far  on  the  road  to  evil  when  he 
loses  faith  in  woman.  During  the  formative  period 
of  character,  of  earthly  influences,  she  is  the  most 
potent  in  making  or  marring  him.  A  kind  refusal, 
where  no  false-  encouragement  has  been  given,  often 
does  a  man  good,  and  leaves  his  faith  intact,  but  such 
an  experience  as  that  of  young  Gregory  was  like  put 
ting  that  in  a  fountain  which  would  stain  and  embitter 
the  waters  of  the  stream  in  all  its  length. 

At  the  early  age  of  twenty-two  he  became  what 
is  usually  understood  by  the  phrase,  "  A  man  of  the 
world.  Still  his  moral  nature  could  not  sink  into 
the  depths  without  many  a  bitter  outcry  against 
its  wrongs.  It  was  with  no  slight  effort  that  he 
drowned  the  memory  of  his  early  home  and  its 
good  influences.  During  the  first  two  or  three 
years  he  occasionally  had  periods  of  passionate 
remorse,  and  made  spasmodic  efforts  toward  better 
things.  But  they  were  made  in  human  strength, 
and  in  view  of  the  penalties  of  evil,  rather  than 
because  enamored  of  the  right.  Some  special  temp 
tation  would  soon  sweep  him  away  into  the  old  life, 
and  thus  because  of  his  broken  promises  and  his 
repeated  failures,  he  at  last  lost  faith  in  himself  also, 
and  lacked  that  self-respect  without  which  no  man 


24  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

can  cope  successfully  with  his  evil  nature,  and  an 
evil  world. 

Living  in  a  boarding-house  with  none  of  the 
restraints  and  purifying  influences  of  a  good  home, 
he  formed  intimacies  with  brilliant  but  unscrupulous 
young  men.  The  theatre  became  his  church,  and 
at  last  the  code  of  his  fast,  fashionable  set  was  that 
which  governed  his  life.  He  avoided  gross,  vulgar 
dissipation,  both  because  his  nature  revolted  at  it, 
and  also  on  account  of  his  purpose  to  permit  nothing 
to  interfere  with  his  prospects  of  advancement  in 
business.  He  meant  to  show  Miss  Bently  that  she 
made  a  bad  business  speculation  after  all.  Thus 
ambition  became  the  controlling  element  in  his  char 
acter  ;  and  he  might  have  had  a  worse  one.  More 
over,  in  all  his  moral  debasement  he  never  lost  a 
decided  tendency  towards  truthfulness  and  honesty. 
He  would  have  starved  rather  than  touch  anything 
that  did  not  belong  to  him,  nor  would  he  allow 
himself  to  deceive  in  matters  of  business,  and  it 
was  upon  these  points  that  he  specially  prided  him 
self. 

Before  going  abroad  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  young  Hunting,  who  morally  seemed  superior  to 
his  other  associates,  and  quite  an  intimacy  sprung 
up  between  them. 

Gregory's  unusual  business  ability,  coupled  with 
his  knowledge  of  French  and  German,  led  to  his 
being  sent  abroad  as  agent  of  his  firm.  Five  years 
of  life  in  the  materialistic  and  skeptical  atmosphere 
of  Continental  cities  confirmed  the  evil  tendencies 


A    HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  2$ 

which  were  only  too  well  developed  before  he  left 
his  own  land. 

He  became  what  so  many  appear  to  be  in  our 
day,  a  practical  materialist  and  atheist.  Present 
life  and  surroundings,  present  profit  and  pleasure, 
were  all  in  all.  He  in  no  sense  recognized  the  exis 
tence  of  a  soul  within  himself  having  distinct  needs 
and  interests.  His  thoughts  centred  wholly  on  the 
comfort  and  pleasures  of  the  day  and  that  which 
would  advance 'his  earthly  ambition.  His  skept 
icism  was  not  intellectual  and  in  reference  to  the 
Bible  and  its  teachings,  but  practical  and  in  refer 
ence  to  humanity  itself.  He  believed  that  with  few 
exceptions  men  and  women  lived  for  their  own  profit 
and  pleasure,  and  that  religion  and  creeds  were  rqat-- 
ters  of  custom  and  fashion  or  the  accident  of  birth. 
Only  the  reverence  in  which  religion  had  been  held 
in  his  early  home  kept  him  from  sharing  fully  in  the 
contempt  which  the  gentlemen  he  met  abroad 
seemed  to  have  for  it.  He  could  not  altogether 
despise  his  mother's  faith,  but  regarded  her  as  a 
gentle  enthusiast  in  what  she  did  not  fully  under 
stand.  From  the  class  of  companionships  which  he 
had  formed,  and  at  the  standpoint  from  which  he 
viewed  society,  it  seemed  to  him  that  unless  influ 
enced  by  some  interested  motive  a  liberal-minded 
man  of  the  world  must  of  necessity  outgrow  these 
things.  With  the  self-deception  of  his  kind  he 
thought/he  was  broad  and  liberal  in  his  views,  when 
in  reality  he  had  lost  all  distinction  between  truth 
and  error,  and  was  narrowing  his  mind  down  to 

2 


26  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

things  only.  Jew  or  Gentile,  Christian  or  Pagan,  it 
was  becoming  all  one  to  him.  Men  changed  their 
creeds  and  religions  with  other  fashions,  but  all 
looked  after  what  they  believed  to  be  the  main 
chance,  and  he  purposed  to  do  the  same. 

As  time  passed  on,  though  he  began  to  admit  to 
himself  that  it  was  strange  that  one  who  made 
all  things  bend  to  his  pleasure  did  not  secure 
more.  He  wearied  of  certain  things.  Stronger 
excitements  were  needed  to  spur  his  jaded  senses. 
His  bets,  his  stakes  at  cards  grew  heavier,  his  pleas 
ures  more  gross,  till  a  delicate  organization  so  re 
volted  at  its  wrongs  and  chastised  him  for  excess 
that  he  was  deterred  from  self-gratification  in  that 
direction. 

><*Some  men's  bodies  are  a  "means  of  grace  to 
them."  Coarse  dissipation  is  a  physical  impossibil 
ity,  or  swift  suicide  in  a  very  painful  form.  Young 
Gregory  found  that  only  in  the  excitements  of  the 
mind  could  he  hope  to  find  continued  enjoyment. 
His  ambition  to  accumulate  large  wealth  and  be 
come  a  brilliant  business  man  most  accorded  with 
his  tastes  and  training,  and  on  these  objects  he 
gradually  concentrated  all  his  energies,  seeking  in 
club-rooms  and  places  of  fashionable  resort,  recrea 
tion  only  from  the  strain  of  business. 
•y.  He  recognized  that  the  best  way  to  advance  his 
own  interests  was  to  serve  his  employers  well ;  and 
this  he  did  so  effectually  that  at  last  he  was  made  a 
partner  in  the  business,  and,  with  a  sense  of  some 
thing  more  like  pleasure  than  he  had  known  for  a 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC  2? 

long  time,  returned  to  New  York  and  entered  upon 
his  new  duties. 

As  we  have  said,  among  those  who  warmly 
greeted  and  congratulated  him,  was  Mr.  Hunting, 
and  they  gradually  came  to  spend  considerable  time 
together,  and  business  and  money-getting  were  their 
favorite  themes.  Walter  saw  that  his  friend  was  as 
keen  on  the  track  of  fortune  as  himself,  and  appar 
ently  had  been  much  more  successful.  Mr.  Hunting 
intimated  that '  after  one  reached  the  charmed 
inner  circle,  Wall  Street  was  perfect  Eldorado,  and 
seemed  to  take  pains  to  drop  suggestions  occasion 
ally  of  how  an  investment  shrewdly  made  by  one 
with  his  favored  point  of  observation  often  secured 
almost  in  a  day  greater  return  than  a  year  of  plod 
ding  business. 

These  remarks  were  not  lost  on  Gregory,  and  the 
wish  became  very  strong  that  he  might  share  in 
some  of  the  splendid  "  hits "  by  which  his  friend 
was  accumulating  so  rapidly. 

Usually  Mr.  Hunting  was  very  quiet  and  self-pos 
sessed,  but  one  evening  in  May  he  came  into  Wal 
ter's  rooms  in  a  manner  indicating  considerable  ex 
citement  and  elation. 

"  Gregory ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  going  to 
make  my  fortune." 

"  Make  your  fortune  !  You  are  as  rich  as  Crce- 
sus  now." 

"The  past  will  be  as  nothing.  I've  struck  a 
mine  rather  than  a  vein." 


28  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  It's  a  pity  some  of  your  friends  could  not  share 
in  your  luck." 

"  Well,  a  few  can.  This  is  so  large,  and  such  a 
good  thing,  that  I  have  concluded  to  let  a  few  inti 
mates  go  in  with  me.  Only  all  must  keep  very  quiet 
about  it ;  "  and  he  proposed  an  operation  that 
seemed  certain  of  success  as  he  explained  it. 

Gregory  concluded  to  put  into  it  about  all  he  had 
independent  of  his  investment  in  the  firm,  and  also 
obtained  permission  to  interest  his  partners,  and  to 
procure  an  interview  between  them  and  Mr.  Hunt 
ing. 

The  scheme  looked  so  very  plausible  that  they 
were  drawn  into  it  also  ;  but  Mr.  Burnett  drew  Wal 
ter  aside  and  said  : 

"  After  all,  we  must  place  a  great  deal  of  confi 
dence  in  Mr.  Hunting's  word  in  this  matter.  Are 
you  satisfied  that  we  can  safely  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  would  stake  my  life  on  his  word  in  this  case," 
said  Walter,  eagerly,  "  and  I  pledge  all  I  have  put 
in  the  firm  on  his  truth." 

This  was  the  last  flicker  of  Walter's  old  enthus 
iasm  and  trust  in  anybody  or  anything,  including 
himself.  With  the  skill  of  almost  genius  Mr.  Hunting 
adroitly,  within  the  limits  of  the  law,  swindled  them 
all  and  made  a  vast  profit  out  of  their  losses.  The 
transaction  was  not  generally  known,  but  even  some 
of  the  hardened  gamblers  of  the  street  said  "  it  was 
too  bad." 

But  the  bank-officers  with  which  Burnett  &  Co. 
did  business  knew  about  it,  and  if  it  had  not  been, 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  29 

for  their  leniency  and  aid  the  firm  would  have  failed. 
As  it  was  it  was  an  all-summer  struggle  to  regain 
the  solid  ground  of  safety. 

At  first  the  firm  was  suspicious  of  Gregory  and 
disposed  to  blame  him  very  much.  But  when  he 
proved  to  them  that  he  had  lost  his  private  means 
by  Hunting's  treachery,  and  insisted  on  making  over 
to  them  all  his  right  and  title  to  the  property  he  had 
invested  with  them,  they  saw  that  he  was  no  con 
federate  of  the  swindler,  but  had  suffered  more  than 
any  of  them. 

He  had,  indeed.  He  had  lost  his  ambition. 
The  large  sum  of  money  that  was  to  be  the  basis  of 
the  immense  fortune  he  had  hoped  to  amass  was 
gone.  He  had  greatly  prided  himself  on  his  bus 
iness  ability,  but  had  signalized  his  entrance  on  his 
new  and  responsible  position  by  being  over-reached 
and  swindled  in  a  manner  that  had  impoverished 
himself  and  almost  ruined  his  partners.  He  grew 
very  misanthropic,  and  was  quite  as  bitter  against 
himself  as  others.  In  his  estimation  people  were 
either  cloaking  their  evil  or  had  not  been  tempted, 
and  he  felt  that  after  Hunting  dropped  the  mask  he 
would  never  trust  any  one  again. 

It  may  be   said,  all    this   is   very   unreasonable. 

.  Yes,  it  is  $  but  then  people  will  judge  the  world  by 

their   own  experience  of  it,  and  some  natures  are 

more    easily  warped  by  evil  and  wrong  than  others.^/. 

•fNo   logic    can     cope    with     feeling   and  prejudice. 

Because  of  his  own  misguided  life  and  the  wrong  he 

had  received  from  others,  Walter  Gregory  was  no 


30  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

more  able  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  society  than 
one  partially  blind  to  judge  of  colors.  And  yet  he 
belonged  to  that  class  who  claim  to  pre-eminently 
know  the  world.  Because  he  thought  he  knew  it 
so  well  he  hated  and  despised  it,  and  himself  as  part 
of  it. 

The  months  that  followed  his  great  and  sudden 
downfall  dragged  their  slow  length  along.  He 
worked  early  and  late,  without  thought  of  sparing 
himself.  If  he  could  only  see  what  the  firm  had  lost 
through  him  made  up,  he  did  not  care  what  became 
of  himself.  Why  should  he  ?  There  was  little  in 
the  present  to  interest  him,  and  the  future  looked,  in 
his  depressed,  morbid  state,  as  monotonous  and  bar 
ren  as  the  sands  of  a  desert.  Seemingly,  he  had 
exhausted  life,  and  it  had  lost  all  zest  for  him. 

But  while  his  power  to  enjoy  had  gone,  not  so 
his  power  to  suffer.  His  conscience  was  uneasy,  and 
told  him  in  a  vague  way  that  something  was  wrong. 
Reason,  or,  more  correctly  speaking,  instinct,  con 
demned  his  life  as  a  wretched  blunder.  He  had 
lived  for  his  own  enjoyment,  and  now,  when  but  half 
through  life,  what  was  there  for  him  to  enjoy? 
He  was  like  a  ship  on  a  voyage,  out  of  provisions  in 
mid-ocean. 

As  in  increasing  weakness  he  dragged  himself  to 
the  office  during  a  sultry  September  day,  the  thought 
occured  to  him  that  the  end  was  nearer  than  he  ex 
pected. 

"  Let  it  come,"  he  said  bitterly.  *  Why  should 
I  live." 


A  HERO,  BUT  NOT  HEROIC.  3! 

The  thought .  of  his  early  home  recurred  to  him 
with  increasing  frequency,  and  he  had  a  growing 
desire  to  visit  it  before  his  strength  failed  utterly. 
Therefore,  it  was  with  a  certain  melancholy  plea 
sure  that  he  found  himself  at  liberty,  through  the 
kindness  of  his  partner,  to  make  this  visit,  and  at  the 
season,  too,  when  his  boyish  memories  of  the  place, 
like  the  foliage,  would  be  most  varied  and  vivid. 


CHAPTER  II. 
OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

TF  the  reader  can  imagine  a  man  visiting  his  own 
grave,  he  might  obtain  some  idea  of  the  feelings 
with  which  Walter  Gregory  took  the  boat  which 
would  land  him  not  far  from  his  early  home.  And 
yet  so  different  was  he  from  the  boy  who  left  that 
home  fifteen  years  before,  that  it  might  be  the  same 
as  if  he  were  visiting  the  grave  of  a  brother  who  had 
died  in  youth. 

Though  the  day  was  mild,  a  fresh,  bracing  wind 
blew  from  the  west.  -  Shielding  himself  from  this  on 
the  after-deck,  he  half  reclined,  on  account  of  his 
weakness,  in  a  position  from  which  he  could  see  the 
shores  and  passing  vessels  upon  the  river.  The  swift 
gliding  motion,  the  beautiful  and  familiar  scenery, 
the  sense  of  freedom  from  routine  work,  and  the 
crisp,  pure  air,  that  seemed  like  a  delicate  wine  all 
combined  to  form  a  mystic  lever  that  began  to  lift 
his  heart  out  of  the  depths  of  despondency. 

A  storm  had  passed  away,  leaving  not  a  trace. 
The  October  sun  shone  in  undimmed  splendor,  and 
all  nature  appeared  to  rejoice  in  its  light.  The 
waves  with  their  silver  crests  seemed  chasing  each 
other  in  mad  glee.  The  sailing  vessels,  as  they 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR.  33 

tacked  to  and  fro  across  the  river  under  the  stiff, 
western  breeze,  made  the  water  foam  about  their 
blunt  prows,  and  the  white-winged  gulls  wheeled  in 
graceful  circles  overhead.  There  was  a  sense  of 
movement  and  life  that  was  contagious,  and  Walter's 
dull  eyes  kindled  with  something  like  interest,  and 
then  he  thought : 

"  The  storm  lowered  over  these  sunny  shores 
yesterday.  The  gloom  of  night  rested  upon  these 
waters  but  a  few  hours  since.  Why  is  it  that  nature 
can  smile  and  be  glad  the  moment  the  shadow  pas 
ses,  and-  I  cannot  ?  Is  there  no  sunlight  for  the 
soul  ?  I  seem  as  if  entering  a  cave,  that  grows 
colder  and  darker  at  every  step,  and  no  light  shines 
at  the  farther  end,  indicating  that  I  may  pass 
through  it  and  out  into  the  light  again." 

Thus  letting  his  fancy  wander  at  will,  at  times 
half  dreaming  and  half  waking,  he  passed  the  hours 
that  elapsed  before  the  boat  touched  at  a  point  in 
the  highlands  of  the  Hudson,  his  destination.  Mak 
ing  a  better  dinner  than  he  had  enjoyed  for  a  long 
time,  and  feeling  stronger  than  for  weeks  before,  he 
started  for  the  place  that  now,  of  all  the  world,  had 
for  him  the  greatest  attractions. 

There  was  no  marked  change  in  the  foliage  as 
yet,  but  only  a  deepening  of  color,  like  a  faint  flush 
on  the  cheek  of  beauty.  As  he  was  driving  along  the 
familiar  road,  farm-house  and  grove,  and  even  tree, 
rock,  and  thicket,  began  to  greet  him  as  the  faces  of 
old  friends.  At  last,  nestling  in  a  wild,  picturesque 
valley,  he  saw  the  quaint  outline  of  his  former  home. 


34  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

His  heart  yearned  toward  it,  and  he  felt  that  next 
to  his  mother's  face  no  other  object  could  be  so  wel 
come. 

"  Slower,  please,"  he  said  to  the  driver. 

Though  his  eyes  were  moist,  and  at  times  dim 
with  tears,  not  a  feature  in  the  scene  escaped  him. 
When  near  the  gateway  he  sprang  out  with  a  light 
ness  that  he  would  not  have  believed  possible  the 
day  before,  and  said  : 

"  Come  for  me  at  five." 

For  a  little  time  he  stood  leaning  on  the  gate. 
Two  children  were  playing  in  the  lawn,  and  it  almost 
seemed  to  him  that  the  elder,  a  boy  of  about  ten 
years,  might  be  himself,  and  he  a  passing  stranger, 
who  had  merely  stopped  to  look  at  the  pretty  scene. 

"  Oh !  that  I  were  a  boy  like  that  one  there. 
Oh  !  that  I  were  here  again  as  of  old,"  he  sighed. 
"  How  unchanged  it  all  is,  and  I  so  changed !  It 
seems  as  if  the  past  were  mocking  me.  That  must 
be  me  there  playing  with  my  little  sister.  Mother 
must  be  sewing  in  her  cheery  south  room,  and  father 
surely  is  taking  his  after-dinner  nap  in  the  library. 
Can  it  be  that  they  are  all  dead  save  me?  and  this 
is  but  a  beautiful  and  mocking  mirage?  " 

He  felt  that  he  could  not  meet  any  one  until  be 
coming  more  composed,  and  so  passed  on  up  the  val 
ley.  Before  turning  away  he  noticed  that  a  lady, 
dressed  in  Scotch  plaid,  came  out  of  the  front  door. 
The  children  joined  her  and  they  seemingly  started 
for  a  walk. 

Looking  wistfully  on  either  side,   Walter  soon 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


35 


came  to  a  point  where  the  orchard  extended  to  the 
road.  A  well-remembered  fall  pippin  tree  hung  its 
laden  boughs  over  the  fence,  and  the  fruit  looked  so 
ripe  and  golden  in  the  slanting  rays  of  October  sun 
light  that  he  determined  to  try  one  of  the  apples 
and  see  if  it  tasted  as  of  old.  As  he  climbed  upon 
the  wall  a  loose  stone  fell  clattering  down  and  rolled 
into  the  road.  He  did  not  notice  this,  but  an  old 
man  dozing  on  the  porch  of  a  little  house  opposite 
did.  As  Walter  reached  up  his  cane  to  detach  from 
its  spray  a  great,  yellow-cheeked  fellow  his  hand  was 
arrested  and  he  was  almost  startled  off  his  perch  by 
such  a  volley  of  oaths  as  even  shocked  his  hardened 
ears.  Turning  gingerly  around  so  as  not  to  loose  his 
footing,  he  faced  this  masked  battery  that  had 
opened  so  unexpectedly  upon  him,  and  saw  a  white- 
haired  old  man  balancing  himself  on  one  crutch  and 
brandishing  the  other  at  him. 

"  Stop  knockin'  down  that  wall  and  fillin'  the 
road  with  stuns,  you  "  shouted  the  venerable 
man,  in  tones  that  indicated  anything  but  the  calm 
ness  of  age.  "  Let  John  Walton's  apples  alone,  you 
— thief.  What  do  you  mean  by  robbin'  in  broad 
daylight,  right  under  a  man's  nose  ?  " 

Walter  saw  that  he  had  a  character  to  deal  with, 
and,  to  divert  his  mind  from  thoughts  that  were 
growing  too  painful,  determined  to  draw  the  old 
man  out ;  so  said  : 

"  Is  not  taking  things  so  openly  a  rather  honest 
way  of  robbing?  " 

"  Git  down,  I  tell  yer,"  cried  the  guardian  of  the 


3  6  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

orchard.  "  Suppose  'tis,  it's  robbin'  arter  all.  So 
now  move  on,  and  none  of  yer  cussed  impudence." 

"  But  you  call  them  John  Walton's  apples,"  said 
Walter  eating  one  with  provoking  coolness.  What 
have  you  got  to  do  with  them  ?  and  why  should  you 
care?" 

"  Now  look  here,  stranger,  you're  an  infernal 
mean  cuss  to  ask  such  questions.  Ain't  John  Wal 
ton  my  neighbor?  and  a  good  neighbor, too?  D'ye 
suppose  a  well-meanin'  man  like  myself  would  stand 
by  and  see  a  neighbor  robbed  ?  and  of  all  others, 
John  Walton  ?  Don't  you  know  that  robbin'  a  good 
man  brings  bad  luck,  you  thunderin'  fool?  " 

"But  I've  always  had  bad  luck, so  I  needn't  stop 
on  that  account,"  retorted  Walter  from  the  fence. 

"  I  believe  it,  and  you  allers  will,"  vociferated 
the  old  man,  "  and  I'll  tell  yer  why.  I  know  from 
the  cut  of  yer  jib  that  yer've  allers  been  eatin'  for 
bidden  fruit.  If  yer  lived  now  a  good,  square  life 
like  'Squire  Walton  and  me,  you'd  have  no  reason 
to  complain  of  yer  luck.  If  I  could  get  a  clip  at 
yer  with  this  crutch  I'd  give  yer  suthin'  else  to  com 
plain  of.  If  yer  had  any  decency  yer  wouldn  t  stand 
there  a  jibin'  at  an  old,  lame  man." 

Walter  took  off  his  hat  with  a  polite  bow  and 
said,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  was  under  the  impres 
sion  that  you  doing  the  'cussing.'  I  shall  come  and 
see  you  soon,  for  somehow  it  does  me  good  to  have 
you  swear  at  me.  I  only  wish  I  had  as  good  a  friend 
in  the  world  as  Mr.  Walton  has  in  you."  With  these 
words  he  sprang  from  the  fence  on  the  orchard  side, 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR  37 

and  made  his  way  to  the  hill  back  of  the  Walton 
residence,  leaving  the  old  man  mumbling  and  mut 
tering  in  a  very  profane  manner  that — 

"  Like  enough  it  was  somebody  visitin'  at  the 
Waltons,  and  he  had  made  a — fool  of  himself  after  all. 
What's  worse,  that  poor,  little,  sick  Miss  Eulie  will 
hear  I've  been  swearin'  agin,  and  there'll  be 
another  awful  prayin'  time.  What  a  cussed  old  fool  I 
am  to  promise  to  quit  swearin'  I  know  I  can't.  What 
is  the  good  o'  stoppin'.  It's  inside,  and  might  as 
well  come  out.  The  Lord  knows  I  don't  mean  no 
disrespect  to  Him.  It's  only  one  of  my  ways.  He 
knows  well  enough  that  I'm  a  good  neighbor,  and 
what's  the  harm  in  a  little  cussin'?"  And  so  the 
strange,  old  man  talked  on  to  himself  in  the  inter 
vals  between  long  pulls  at, his  pipe. 

By  the  time  Walter  reached  the  top  of  the  hill 
his  strength  was  quite  exhausted,  and,  panting,  he 
sat  down  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  thicket  of  cedars, 
for  the  late  afternoon  was  growing  chilly.  Beneath 
him  lay  the  one  oasis  in  a  desert  world. 

With  an  indescribable  blending  of  pleasure  and 
pain,  he  found  himself  tracingf  with  his  eye  every 
well-remembered  path,  and  marking  every  familiar 
object. 

Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring,  and  it  would 
seem  that  nature  was  seeking  to  impart  to  his  per 
turbed  spirit,  full  of  the  restless  movement  of  city 
life,  and  the  inevitable  disquiet  of  sin,  something  of 
her  own  calmness  and  peace.  The  only  sounds  he 
heard  seemed  a  part  of  nature's  silence  ; — the  tinkle 


38  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

/ 

of  cow-bells,  the  slumbrous  monitone  of  water  as  it 
fell  over  the  dam,  the  grating  notes  of  a  katydid, 
rendered  hoarse  by  recent  cool  nights,  in  a  shady 
ravine  near  by,  and  a  black  cricket  chirping  at  the 
edge  of  the  rock  on  which  he  sat — these  were  all. 
And  yet  the  sounds,  though  not  heard  for  years, 
seemed  as  familiar  as  the  mother's  lullaby  that  puts 
a  child  to  sleep,  and  a  delicious  sense  of  quiet  and 
restfulness  stole  into  his  heart.  The  world  in  which 
he  had  so  greatly  sinned  and  suffered  might  be  ano 
ther  planet,  it  seemed  so  far  away.  Could  it  be  that 
in  a  few,  short  hours  he  had  escaped  out  of  the 
hurry  and  grind  of  New  York  into  this  sheltered 
nook?  Why  had  he  not  come  before?  Here  was 
the  remedy  for  soul  and  body,  if  there  were  any. 

Not  a  person  was  visible  on  the  premises,  and  it 
seemed  that  it  might  thus  have  been  awaiting  him  in 
all  his  absence  and  that  now  he  had  only  to  go  and 
t:ake  possession. 

^  "  So  our  sweet  and  beautiful  home  in  heaven 
awaits  us,  mother  used  to  say,''  he  thought,  "  while 
we  are  such  willing  exiles  from  it.  I  would  give  all 
the  world  to  believe*  what  mother  did." 

He  found  that  the  place  so  inseparably  associ 
ated  with  his  mother  brought  back  her  teachings, 
which  he  had  so  often  tried  to  forget. 

•'  I  wish  I  might  bury  myself  here,  away 
from  the  world,"  he  muttered,  "  for  it  has  only 
cheated  and  lied  to  me  from  first  to  last.  Every 
thing  deceived  me,  and  turned  out  differently 
from  what  I  expected.  These  loved  old  scenes 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR.  39 

are  true  and  unchanged,  and  smile  upon  me  now  as 
when  I  was  here  a  happy  boy.  Would  to  heaven  I 
might  never  leave  them  again." 

He  was  startled  out  of  his  revery  by  the  sharp 
bark  of  a  squirrel  that  ran  chattering  and  whisking 
its  tail  in  great  excitement  from  limb  to  limb  in  a 
clump  of  chestnuts  near.  The  crackling  of  a  twig 
betrayed  to  Walter  the  cause  of  its  alarm,  for 
through  an  opening  in  the  thicket  he  saw  the  lady 
who  had  started  out  for  a  walk  with  the  children 
while  he  was  leaning  on  the  front  gate. 

Shrinking  farther  behind  the  cedars  he  purposed 
to  reconnoitre  a  little  before  making  himself  known. 
He  noticed  that  she  was  dressed  in  Scotch  plaid,  that 
seemed  to  have  a  pretty  fitness  for  rambling  among 
the  hills.  At  first  he  thought  she  was  pretty,  and 
then  that  she  was  not.  His  quick,  critical  eye  de- 
tectecf  that  her  features  were  not  regular,  that  a 
classic  profile  was  wanting.  It  was  only  the  rich 
glow  of  exercise  and  jaunty  gypsy  hat  that  had 
given  the  first  impression  of  something  like  beauty. 
In  her  right  hand  which  was  ungloved,  she  daintily 
held,  by  its  short  stem,  a  chestnut  burr,  which  the 
squirrel,  in  its  alarm,  had  dropped,  and  now,  in  its 
own,  shrill  vernacular,  was  scolding  so  vociferously 
about.  She  was  glancing  around  for  some  means 
to  break  it  open,  and  Walter  had  scarcely  time  to 
notice  her  fine,  dark  eyes,  when,  as  if  remembering 
the  rock  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  she  advanced 
toward  him  with  a  step  so  quick  and*  elastic  that  he 
envied  her  vigor. 


40  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Further  concealment  was  now  impossible. 
Therefore,  with  easy  politeness,,  he  stepped  forward 
and  said  : 

"  Let  me  open  the  burr  for  you,  Miss  Walton." 

She  started  violently  at  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
and,  for  a  moment,  reminded  him  of  a  frightened 
bird  on  the  eve  of  taking  flight. 

"  Pardon  me  for  so  alarming  you,"  Walter  has 
tened  to  say,  "  and  also  pardon  a  seeming  stranger 
for  addressing  you  informally.  My  name  may  not 
be  unknown  to  you,  though  I  am  in  person.  It  is 
Walter  Gregory." 

She  had  been  so  startled  that  she  could  not  im 
mediately  recover  herself,  and  still  stood  regarding 
him  doubtfully,  though  with  manner  more  assured. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  smiling  and  advancing  toward 
her,  with  the  quiet  assurance  of  a  society  man. 
"  Let  me  open  the  burr  for  you,  and  you  shall  take 
its  contents  in  confirmation  of  what  I  say.  If  I  find 
sound  chesnuts  in  it,  let  them  be  a  token  that  I  am 
what  I  represent  myself.  If  not,  then  you  may 
justly  ask  better  credentials." 

Half  smiling,  and  quite  satisfied  from  his  words 
and  appearance  in  advance,  she  extended  the  burr 
toward  him.  But  as  she  did  so  it  parted  from  the 
stem,  and  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  had 
he  not,  with  his  ungloved  hand,  caught  the  prick 
ly  thing.  His  hand  was  as  white  and  soft  as  hers, 
and  though  the  sharp  spines  stung  him  sorely  he 
permitted  no  sign  o/  pain  to  come  out  upon  his 
face. 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR.  41 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Walton,  "  I  fear  it  hurt 
you. 

lie  looked  up  humorously  and  said,  "An  augury 
is  a  solemn  affair,  and  no  disrespect  must  be  allowed 
to  nature's  oracles,  which  in  this  case  is  a  chestnut 
burr,  and  he  speedily  opened  it. 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  triumphantly,  "  what  more 
could  you  ask  ?  Here  are  two  solid,  plump  chest 
nuts,  with  only  a  false,  empty'form  of  shell  between 
them.  And  here,  like  the  solid  nuts,  are  two  peo 
ple  entitled  to  each  other's  acquaintance,  with  only 
the  false  formality  of  an  introduction,  like  the  empty 
shell,  keeping  them  apart.  Since  no  mutual  friend 
is  present  to  introduce  us,  has  not  nature  taken  upon 
herself  the  office  through  this  chestnut  burr  ?  But 
perhaps  I  should  further  nature's  efforts  by  giving 
you  my  card." 

As  Miss  Walton  regained  composure,  she  soon 
proved  to  Gregory  that  she  was  not  merely  a  shy, 
country  girl.  At  the  close  of  his  rather  long  and 
fanciful  speech  she  said,  genially,  extending  her 
hand  : 

"  My  love  for  nature  is  unbounded,  Mr.  Gregory, 
and  the  introduction  you  have  so  happily  obtained 
from  her  weighs  more  with  me  than  any  other  that 
you  could  have  had.  Let  me  welcome  you  to  your 
own  home,  as  it  were.  But  see,  your  hand  is  bleed 
ing,  where  the  burr  pricked  you.  Is  this  an  omen, 
also?  If  our  first  meeting  brings  bloody  wounds,  I 
fear  you  will  shun  further  acquaintance,  lest  I  cause 
your  death." 


42  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

There  was  a  spice  of  bitterness  in  Gregory's 
laugh,  as  he  said  : 

"  People  don't  often  die  of  such  wounds.  But  it 
is  a  little  odd  that  the  first  time  I  took  your  hand  I 
should  stain  it  with  my  blood.  I  am  inclined  to  drop 
the  burr  after  all,  and  base  all  my  claims  on  my 
practical  visiting  card.  You  may  come  to  look  upon 
the  burr  as  a  warning,  rather  than  an  introduction, 
and  order  me  off  the  premises." 

"  It  was  an  omen  of  your  choice/'  replied  Miss 
Walton  laughing.  "You  have  more  to  fear  from  it 
than  I.  If  you  will  venture  to  stay  you  will  be  most 
welcome.  Indeed,  it  almost  seems  that  you  have 
a  better  right  here  than  we,  and  your  name  has 
been  so  often  heard  that  you  are  no  stranger.  I 
know  father  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  for  he 
often  speaks  of  you,  and  wonders  if  you  are  like  his 
old  friend,  the  dearest  one,  I  think,  he  ever  had. 
How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  been  wandering  about  the  place 
much  of  the  afternoon." 

"  I  need  not  ask  you  why  you  did  not  come  in  at 
once,"  she  said  gently.  "  Seeing  your  old  home 
after  so  long  an  absence,  is  like  meeting  some  dear 
friend.  One  naturally  wishes  to  be  alone  for  a  time. 
But  now  I  hope  you  will  go  home  with  me." 

He  was  surprised  at  her  delicate  appreciation  of 
his  feelings,  and  gave  her  a  quick  pleased  look, 
saying : 

"  Nature  has  taught  you  to  be  a  good  interpre- 
tess,  Miss  Walton.  You  are  right.  The  memories 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


43 


of  the  old  place  were  a  little  too  much  forme  at  first, 
and  I  did  not  know  that  those  whom  I  met  would 
appreciate  my  feelings  so  delicately." 

The  two  children  now  appeared,  running  around 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  the  boy  calling  in  great  excite 
ment  : 

"  Aunt  Annie,  oh !  Aunt  Annie,  weVe  found 
a  squirrel-hole.  We  chased  him  into  it.  Can't  Susie 
sit  by  the  hole  and  keep  him  in,  while  I  go  for  a 
spade  to  dig  him  out?  " 

Then  they  saw  the  unlooked-for  stranger,  who  at 
once  rivalled  the  squirrel-hole  in  interest,  and  with 
slower  steps,  and  shy,  curious  glances,  approached. 

"  These  are  my  sister's  children,"  said  Miss  Wal 
ton,  simply. 

Walter  kindly  took  the  boy  by  the  hand,  and 
kissed  the  little  girl,  who  looked  half-frightened  and 
half-pleased,  as  a  very  little  maiden  should,  while 
she  rubbed  her  cheek  that  his.  moustache  had  tick 
led. 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  get  the  squirrel,  Aunt 
Annie  ?  "  again  asked  the  boy. 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  right,  Johnnie,  if 
you  could  ? "  she  asked.  "  Suppose  you  were  the 
squirrel  in  the  hole,  and  one  big  monster  like  Susie, 
here,  should  sit  by  the  door,  and  you  heard  another 
big  monster  say,  Wait  till  I  get  something  to  tear 
open  his  house  with.  How  would  you  feel  ?" 

"  I  won't  keep  the  poor  little  squirrel  in  his  hole," 
said  sympathetic  Susie. 

But  the  boy's  brow    contracted  and  he  said, 


44  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

sternly :  "  Squirrels  are  nothing  but  robbers,  and 
their  holes  are  robbers'  dens.  They  take  half  our 
nuts  every  year." 

Miss  Walton  looked  significantly  at  Gregory, and 
laughed,  saying :  "  There  it  is,  you  see,  man  and 
woman." 

A  momentary  shadow  crossed  his  face,  and  he 
said  abruptly :  "  I  hope  Susie  will  be  as  kindly  in 
coming  years." 

Miss  Walton  looked,  at  him  curiously  as  they 
began  to  descend  the  hill  to  the  house.  She  evi 
dently  did  not  understand  his  remark,  coupled  with 
his  manner. 

As  they  approached  the  barn  there  was  great 
excitement  among  the  poultry.  Passing  round  its 
angle,  Walter  saw  coming  toward  them  a  quaint- 
looking  old  woman,  in  what  looked  very  much  like 
a  white  scalloped  night-cap.  She  had  a  pan  of  corn 
in  her  hand,  and  was  attended  by  .a  retinue  that 
would  have  rejoiced  an  epicure's  heart.  Chickens, 
ducks,  geese,  turkeys,  and  Guinea  fowls  thronged 
around  and  after  her  with  an  intentness  on  the  grain 
and  a  disregard  of  each  other's  rights  and  feelings 
that  reminded  one  unpleasantly  of  political  aspir 
ants  just  after '  a  Presidential  election.  Johnnie 
made  a  dive  for  an  old  gobbler,  and  the  huge  bird 
dropped  its  wings  and  seemed  inclined  to  show 
fight,  but  a  reluctant  armistice  was  brought  about 
between  them  by  the  old  woman  screaming  : 

"  Maister  Johnnie,  an  ye  let  not  the  fowls  alone 
ye'll  ha  na  apples  toast  the  night." 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR.  45 

Susie  clung  timidly  to  her  auntie's  side  as  they 
passed  through  these  clamorous  candidates  for  holi 
day  honors,  and  the  young  lady  said  kindly : 

"  You  have  a  large  family  to  look  after,  Zibbie, 
but  I'm  afraid  we'll  lessen  it  every  day  now." 

"  Indeed  an  ye  will,  and  it  goes  agin  the  grain 
to  wring  the  necks  of  them  that  I've  nursed,  as  it 
were,  from  babies,"  said  the  old  woman,  rather 
sharply. 

"  It  must  be  a  great  trial  to  your  feelings,"  said 
Miss  Walton,  laughing.  "  But  what  would  you 
have  us  do  with  them,  Zibbie?  You  don't  need 
them  all  for  pets." 

Before  Zibbie  could  answer,  an  old  gentleman  in 
a  low  buggy  drove  into  the  large  door-yard,  and  the 
children  bounded  towards  him  screaming,  "  Grand- 
pa." 

A  colored  man  appeared  from  the  barn-yard  and 
took  the  horse,  and  Mr.  Walton,  with  a  briskness 
that  one  would  not  suspect  at  his  advanced  age, 
came  toward  them. 

He  was  a  noble-looking  old  man,  with  hair  and 
beard  as  white  as  snow  and  the  stately  manners  of 
the  old  school.  When  he  learned  who  Walter  was 
he  greeted  him  with  a  cordiality  that  was  so  genuine 
and  hearty  that  the  cynical  man  of  the  world  was 
compelled  to  'feel  its  truth. 

Mr.  Walton's  eyes  were  turned  so  often  and  wist 
fully  on  his  face  that  Walter  was  really  embar 
rassed. 

"  I  was  looking  for  my  friend,"  said  the  old  gen- 


46  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

tleman,  in  a  husky  voice,  turning  hastily  away  to 
hide  his  feeling.  "  You  strongly  remind  me  of  him, 
and  yet —  "  But  he  never  finished  the  sentence. 

Gregory  well  understood  the  "and  yet,"  and  in 
bitterness  of  soul  remembered  that  his  father  had 
been  a  good  man,  but  that  the  impress  of  goodness 
could  not  rest  on  his  face. 

He  had  now  grown  very  weary,  and  gave  evi 
dence  of  it. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  look  ill,"  said  Miss 
Walton,  hastily. 

"  I  ^am  not  well,"  he  said,  "  and  have  not  been  for 
a  long  time.  Perhaps  I  am  going  beyond  my 
strength  to-day." 

In  a  moment  they  were  all  solicitude.  The 
driver,  who  then  appeared  according  to  his  instruc 
tions,  was  posted  back  to  the  hotel  for  Mr.  Greg 
ory's  luggage,  Mr.  Walton  saying,  with  hearty  em 
phasis  that  removed  every  scruple : 

"  This  must  be  your  home,  sir,  as  long  as  you  can 
stay  with  us,  as  truly  as  ever  it  was." 

A  little  later  he  found  himself  in  the  spare  room 
whose  state  he  had  rarely  intruded  on  when  a  boy. 
Jeff,  the  colored  man,  had  kindled  a  cheery  wood 
fire  on  the  ample  hearth,  and,  too  exhausted  even  to 
think,  he  sank  back  in  a  great  easy  chair  with  the 
blessed  sense  of  the  storm-tossed  on  reaching  a 
quiet  haven. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MORBID   BROODING. 

/T"*O  the  millions  who  are  suffering  in  mind  or  body 
there  certainly  comes  in  this  world  moments 
of  repose,  when  pain  ceases  ;  and  the  respite  seems 
so  delicious  in  contrast  that  it  may  well  suggest  the 
"  rest  that  remaineth."  Thinking  of  neither  the 
past  nor  the  future,  Walter  for  a  little  time  gave 
himself  up  to  the  sense  of  present  and  luxurious 
comfort.  With  closed  eyes  and  mind  almost  as 
quiet  as  his  motionless  body  he  let  the  moments 
pass,  feeling  dimly  that  he  would  ask  no  better 
heaven  than  the  eternal  continuance  of  this  painless 
half-dreaming  lethargy. 

He  was*  soon  aroused,  however,  by  a  knocking  at 
the  door,  and  a  decent  middle-aged  serving-woman 
placed  before  him  a  tempting  plate  of  Albert  biscuit 
and  a  glass  of  home-made  currant  wine  of  indefinite 
age.  The  quaint  and  dainty  little  lunch  caught  his 
appetite  as  exactly  as  if  manna  had  fallen  from 
heaven  adapted  to  his'  need  :  but  it  soon  stimulated 
him  out  of  his  condition  of  partial  non-existence. 
With  returning  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of  living 
and  acting  came  the  strong  desire  to  spend  as  much 
of  his  vacation  as  possible  in  his  old  home,  and  he 


48   *  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

determined  to  avail  himself  of  Mr.  Walton's  invita 
tion  to  the  utmost  limit  that  decency  would  permit. 

His  awakened  mind  gave  but  little  thought  to  his 
entertainers,  and  he  did  not  anticipate  much  pleas 
ure  from  their  society.  He  was  satisfied  that  they 
were  refined,  cultured  people,  with  whom  he  could 
be  as  much  at  ease  as  would  be  possible  in  any  com 
panionship,  but  he  hoped  and  purposed  to  spend  the 
most  of  his  time  alone  in  wandering  amid  old  scenes 
and  brooding  over  the  past.  ^The  morbid  mind  is 
ever  full  of  unnatural  contradictions,  and  he  found  a 
melancholy  pleasure  in  turning  his  back  on  the 
future  and  recalling  the  time  when  he  was  happy 
and  hopeful.  In  his  egotism,  he  found  more  in  his 
past  and  vanished  self  to  interest  than  anything 
in  the  world  around.  Evil  and  ill  health  had  so 
enfeebled  his  body,  narrowed  his  mind,  and  blurred 
the  future  that  his  best  solace  seemed  a  vain  and 
sentimental  recalling  of  the  crude  yet  comparatively 
happy  period  of  childhood. 

This  is  sorry  progress.  A  man  must  indeed  have 
lived  radically  wrong  .when  he  looks  backward  for 
the  best  of  his  life.  Gray-haired  Mr.  Walton  was 
looking  forward.  Walter's  habit  of  self-pleasing — 
of  acting  according  to  his  mood — was  too  deeply 
seated  to  permit  even  the  thought  of  returning  the 
hospitality  he  hoped  to  enjoy  by  a  cordial  effort  on 
his  part  to  prove  himself  an  agreeable  guest.  Polite 
he  ever  would  be,  for  he  had  the  instincts  and  train 
ing  of  a  gentleman  in  society's  interpretation  of  the 
word,  but  he  had  lost  the  power  to  feel  a  generous 


MORBID  BROODING. 


49 


solicitude  for  the  feelings  and  happiness  of  others, 
Indeed,  he  rather  took  a  cynical  pleasure  in  discov 
ering  defects  in  the  character  of  those  around  him, 
and  in  learning  that  their  seeming  enjoyment  of  life 
was  but  hollow  and  partial. 

Conscious  of  being  evil  himself,  he  liked  to  think 
others  were  not  much  better,  or  would  .not  be  if 
tempted.  Therefore,  with  a  gloomy  skepticism,  he 
questioned  all  the  seeming  happiness  and  goodness 
he  saw. 

"  It  is  either  unreal  or  untried,"  he  was  wont  to 
say  bitterly. 

About  seven  o'clock  Hannah,  the  waitress,  again 
appeared  saying : 

"  Supper  is  ready,  but  the  ladies  beg  you  will 
not  come  down  unless  you  feel  able.  I  can  bring 
your  tea  up  on  a  tray  if  you  wish/7 

Thinking  first  and  only  of  self,  he  at  onCe 
decided  not  to  go  down.  He  felt  sufficiently  rested 
and  revived,  but  was  in  no  rqood  to  talk  common 
place  to  comparative  strangers.  His  cosey  chair, 
glowing  fire,  and  listless  ease  were  so  much  better 
than  noisy  children,  inquisitive  ladies,  and  the  un 
conscious  reproach  of  Mr.  Walton's  face,  as  he  would 
look  in  vain  for  the  lineaments  of  his  lost  friend. 
Therefore  he  said  suavely: 

"  Please  say  to  the  ladies  that  I  am  so  wearied 
that  I  would  make  but  a  dull  companion ;  and  so  for 
their  sakes  as  well  as  my  own  had  better  not  leave 
my  room  again  this  evening." 

Coarse  grasping  and  snatching  for  self  in  swinish 
3 


ijO  OPENING    A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

style  is  very  revolting,  but  the  same  spirit  can  be 
prettily  disguised.  It  is  the  perfection  of  art  in  sel 
fishness  to  make  it  appear  as  if  you  were  thinking 
only  of  others.  This  was  the  design  of  Walter's 
polite  message.  Soon  a  bit  of  tender  steak,  a  roast 
potatoe,  tea  and  toast  were  smoking  appetizingly 
beside  him,  and  he  congratulated  himself  that  he 
had  escaped  the  bore  of  company  for  one  evening. 

Notwithstanding  his  misanthropy  and  cherished 
desolation  the  supper  was  so  inviting  that  he  was 
tempted  to  partake  of  it  heartily.  Then  encasing 
himself  in  his  ample  dressing-gown  he  placed  his 
slippered  feet  on  the  fender  before  a  cheery  fire, 
lighted  a  choice  Havana,  and  proceeded  to  be  mis 
erable  after  the  fashion  that  indulged  misery  often 
affects. 

Hannah  quietly  removed  the  tea-tray,  and  Mr. 
Walton  came  up  and  courteously  inquired  if  there 
was  anything  that  would  add  to  his  guest's  com 
fort. 

"  After  a  few  hours  of  rest  and  quiet  I  hope  I 
shall  be  able  to  make  better  return  for  your  hospi 
tality,"  Walter  rejoined  with  equal  politeness. 

"  Oh,  do  not  feel  under  any  obligation  to  exert 
yourself,"  said  kind  Mr.  Walton.  "  In  order  to  de 
rive  full  benefit  from  your  vacation  you  must  simply 
rest  and  follow  your  moods." 

This  view  of  the  case  suited  Walter  exactly,  and 
the  prospect  of  a  visit  at  his  old  home  grew  still 
more  inviting.  After  being  left  alone  he  gave  him 
self  up  wholly  to  the  memories  of  the  past. 


MORBID  BROODING.  5! 

At  first  it  was  with  a  pleasurable  pain  that  he 
recalled  his  former  life.  With  an  imagination 
naturally  strong  he  lived  it  all  over  again,  com 
mencing  with  the  date  of  his  first  recollections.  In 
the  curling  flames  and  glowing  coals  on  the  hearth  a 
panorama  passed  before  him.  He  saw  a  joyous  child, 
a  light-hearted  boy,  and  sanguine  youth  with  the 
shifting  and  famffiar  scenery  of  well-remembered 
experience.  Time  softened  the  pictures,  and  the 
harsh,  rough  outlines  which  exist  in  ev^ry  truthful 
portraiture  of  life  were  lost  in  the  haze  of  distance. 
The  gentle  but  steady  light  of  mother  love,  and 
through  her  a  pale,  half-recognized  reflection  of  the 
love  of  God,  illumined  all  these  years ;  and  his 
father's  strong,  quiet  affection  made  a  background 
anything  but  dark.  He  had  been  naturally  what  is 
termed  a  very  good  boy,  full  of  generous  impulses. 
There  had  been  no  lack  of  ordinary  waywardness  or 
faults  of  youth,  but  they  showed  a  tendency  to 
yield  readily  to  the  correcting  influence  of  love, 
impulses,  however,  are  not  principles,  and  may 
give  way  to  stronger  impulses  of  evil.  If  only  the 
influences  of  his  early  home  had  followed  him  he 
would  not  now  be  moodily  recalling  the  past  as  the 
exiled  convict  might  watch  the  shores  of  his  native 
land  recede. 

And  yet  as  in  his  prolonged  reverie  the  fire 
burned  low  and  the  ruddy  coals  turned  to  ashes  the 
past  faded  into  distance,  and  his  present  life,  dull 
and  leaden,  rose  up  before  him,  and  from  regretful 
memories  that  were  not  wholly  painful  he  passed  to 


52  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  bitterness  of  feeling  which  ever  comes  when 
hope  is  giving  place  to  despair. 

The  fire  flickered  out  and  died,  his  head  drooped 
lower  and  lower,  while  the  brooding  frown  upon  his 
brow  darkened  almost  into  a  scowl.  Outwardly  he 
made  a  sad  picture  for  a  young  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  but  to  Him  who  looks  at  the  attitude  of  the  soul, 
what  but  unutterable  love  kept  him  from  appearing 
absolutely  revolting  ? 

Suddenly,  like  light  breaking  into  a  vault,  a  few 
notes  of  prelude  were  struck  upon  the  piano  in  the 
parlor  below,  and  a  sweet  voice,  softened  by  distance, 
sang— 

"  Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee." 

How  often  he  had  heard  the  familiar  words  and 
music  in  that  same  home.  They  seemed  to  crown 
and  complete  all  the  memories  of  the  place,  but 
they  reminded  him  more  clearly  than  ever  before 
that  its  most  inseparable  associations  were  holy, 
hopeful,  and  suggestive  of  a  faith  that  seemingly  he 
had  lost  as  hopelessly  as  if  it  had  been  a  gem  dropped 
into  the  ocean. 

He  had  lived  in  foreign  lands  far  from  his  birth 
place,  but  the  power  and  purpose  to  return  were 
thoughts  that  ever  dwelt  pleasurably  in  his  mind. 
But  how  could  he  cross  the  gulf  that  yawned  be 
tween  him  and  the  faith  of  his  childhood?  Was 
there  really  anythi  ig  beyond  that  gulf  save  what  the 
credulous  imagination  had  created  ?  Instinctively 
he  felt  that  there  was,  for  he  was  honest  enough 


MORBID  BROODING.  33 

with  himself  to  remember  that  his  skepticism  was 
the  result  of  an  evil  life  and  the  influence  of  an 
unbelieving  world  rather  than  of  patient  investiga 
tion.  The  wish  was  father  of  the  thought. 

Yet  sweet,  unfaltering,  and  clear  as  the  voice  of 
faith  ever  should  be,  the  hymn  went  forward  in  the 
room  below,  his  memory  supplying  the  well-known 
words  that  were  lost  because  of  distance. 

"  When  mine  eyelids  close  in  death, 
When  I  soar  to  world's  unknown." 

"  Oh,  when  !  "  he  exclaimed  bitterly.  "  What 
shall  be  my  experience  then  ?  If  I  continue  to  fail 
in  health  as  I  have  of  late  I  shall  know  cursedly 
soon.  That  must  be  Miss  Walton  singing.  Though 
she  does  not  realize  it,  to  me  this  is  almost  as  cruel 
mockery  as  if  an  angel  sang  at  the  gates  of  hell." 

The  music  ceased  and  the  monitone  of  one  read 
ing  followed/ 

"  Family  prayers  as  of  old,"  he  muttered.  "  How 
everything  conspires  to-day  to  bring  my  home-life 
back  again,  and  yet  there  is  a  fatal  lack  of  something 
that  is  harder  to  endure  than  the  absence  of  my  own 
kindred  and  vanished  youth.  I  doubt  whether  I  can 
stay  here  long  after  all.  Will  not  the  mocking  fable 
of  Tantalus  be  repeated  constantly,  and  I  see  others 
drinking  daily  at  a  fountain  which  though  seemingly 
so  near  is  ever  beyond  my  reach  ?" 

Shivering  with  the  chill  of  the  night  and  the 
deeper  chill  at  heart,  he  retired  to  troubled  sleep. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
HOW  MISS  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE. 

"D  EST,  the  sunny  light  and  bracing  air  of  the  fol 
lowing  morning  banished  much  of  Walter's 
moodiness,  and  he  descended  the  stairs  purposing  to 
dismiss  painful  thoughts  and  get  what  comfort  and 
semblance  of  enjoyment  he  could  out  of  the  passing 
hour.  Mr.  Walton  met  him  cordially — indeed  with 
almost  fatherly  solicitude — and  led  him  at  once  to 
the  dining-room,  where  an  inviting  breakfast  awaited. 
Miss  Walton  also  was  genial,  and  introduced  Miss 
Eulalia  Morton,  a  maiden  sister  of  her  mother.  Miss 
Eulie,  as  she  was  familiarly  called,  was  a  pale,  delicate, 
little  lady,  with  a  face  sweetened  rather  than  harden 
ed  and  embittered  by  time.  If,  as  some  believe,  the 
flesh  and  the  spirit,  the  soul  and  the  body,  are  ever  at 
variance,  she  gave  the  impression  at  first  glance  that 
the  body  was  getting  the  worst  of  the  conflict.  But 
in  truth  the  faintest  thoughts  of  strife  seemed  to 
have  no  association  with  her  whatever.  She  ap 
peared  so  light  and  aerial  that  one  could  imagine 
her  flying  over  the  rough  places  of  life,  and  vanish 
ing  when  any  one  opposed  her. 

Miss  Walton  reversed  all  this,  for  she  was  decid 
edly  substantial.     A   fine  figure  made  her   appear 


HOW  MISS  WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE.         55 

taller  than  she  really  was,  for  she  was  only  of  medium 
height.  She  immediately  gave  the  impression  of 
power  and  reserve  force.  You  felt  it  in  her  quick 
elastic  step.  You  saw  it  in  her  decided  though  not 
abrupt  movements,  and  heard  it  in  her  tone.  Even 
the  nonchalant  Mr.  Gregory  could  not  ignore  her  in 
his  customary  polite  manner,  though  a  quiet  refine 
ment  and  peculiar  unobtrusiveness  seemed  her  char 
acteristics.  She  won  attention,  not  because  she 
sought  it,  nor  on  the  ground  of  eccentricities,  but 
because  of  her  own  intense  vitality.  From  her  dark 
eyes  a  close  observer  might  catch  glimpses  of  a 
quick,  active  mind,  an  eager  spirit,  and,  well — per 
haps  a  passionate  temper.  Though  chastened  and 
subdued,  she  ever  gave  the  impression  of  power  to 
those  who  came  to  know  her  well.  In  certain  ways 
as  they  interpreted  her  people  did  acknowledge  this 
force  of  her  character.  Some  spoke  of  her  as  very 
lively  others  as  exceedingly  energetic  and  willing  to 
enter  on  any  good  work.  Some  thought  her  ambi 
tious,  else  why  was  she  so  prominent  in  church  mat 
ters,  and  so  ready  to  visit  the  sick  and  poor.  They 
could  explain  this. in  but  one  way.  And  some  looked 
knowingly  at  each  other  and  said : 

"  I  wonder  if  she  is  always  as  smiling  and 
sweet  as  when  in  society?  "  and  then  followed  shak 
ing  of  heads  which  intimated,  "  look  out  for  sudden 
gusts." 

Again,  as  in  simple  morning  wrapper,  she  turned 
to  greet  Walter,  she  gave  him  the  impression  of 
something  like  beauty.  But  his  taste,  rendered  nice 


56  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  critical  by  much  observation  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  at  once  told  him  that  he  was  mis 
taken. 

"The  expression  is  well  enough,"  he  thought, 
"  but  she  has  not  a  single  perfect  feature — not  one 
that  an  artist  would  copy,  except  perhaps  the  eyes, 
and  even  they  are  not  soft  and  Madonna-like." 

Walter  had  a  sybarite's  eye  for  beauty,  and  in 
tense  admiration  for  it.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
too  intellectual  to  be  satisfied  with  the  mere  sen 
suous  type.  And  yet  when  he  decided  that  a  woman 
was  not  pretty,  she  ceased  to  interest  him.  His 
exacting  taste  required  no  small  degree  of  outward 
perfection  crowned  by  ready  wit  and  society  polish. 
With  such  he  had  frequently  amused  himself  in  New 
York  and  Paris  by  a  passing  flirtation  since  the  poli 
tic  Miss  Bently  had  made  him  a  skeptic  in  regard 
te  women.  All  his  intercourse  with  society  had  con 
firmed  his  cynicism.  The  most  beautiful  and  bril 
liant  in  the  drawing-rooms  were  seldom  the  best 
present.  He  flattered  them  to  their  faces  and 
sneered  at  them  in  his  heart.  His  attentions  were 
merely  of  a  nature  to  excite  their  vanity,  fed  by 
much  incense  from  other  sources.  He  saw  this 
plainly  manifested  vanity  which  he  contributed  to 
develop  and  despised  it.  He  saw  them  as  eager  for 
a  good  match  as  ever  the  adored  Miss  Bently  had 
been,  and  that,  though  they  liked  his  compliments, 
they  cared  nothing  for  him.  Why  should  they  ?  In 
sincere  and  selfish  himself,  why  should  he  expect  to 
awaken  better  feelings  on  the  part  of  those  who  were 


HOW  MISS   WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE.          57 

anything  but  unsophisticated,  and  from  knowledge 
of  the  world  could  gauge  him  at  his  true  worth. 
Not  even  a  silly  sentimental  girl  would  show  her 
heart  to  such  a  man.  And  yet  with  the  blind  ego 
tism  of  selfishness  he  smiled  grimly  at  their  heart- 
lessness  and  said,  "  Such  is  woman." 

At  the  same  time  in  justice  it  must  be  said  that 
he  despised  men  in  general  quite  as  sincerely. 

"  Human  nature  is  wretched  stuff,"  had  come  to 
be  the  first  article  in  his  creed. 

He  concluded  in  regard  to  Miss  Walton :  "  She 
is  a  goodish  girl,  more  of  a  lady  than  the  average, 
pious  and  orthodox,  excellent  housekeeper,  and  a 
great  comfort  to  her  father,  no  doubt.  She  is  safe, 
from  her  very  plainness,  though  confident,  of  course, 
that  she  could  resist  temptation  and  be  a  saint  under 
all  circumstances  ;  "  and  he  dismissed  her  from  his 
mind  with  a  sort  of  inward  groan  and  protest  against 
the  necessity  of  making  himself  agreeable  to  her 
during  his  visit. 

He  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  specially  dis 
guise  his  face,  as  he  made  these  brief  critical  observa 
tions,  and  quick-witted  Anne  gathered  something  of 
the  drift  of  his  thoughts,  as  she  stole  a  few  glances 
at  him  from  behind  the  coffee-urn.  It  piqued  her  a 
pride  a  little,  and  she  was  disappointed  in  him,  for 
she  had  hoped  for  an  agreeable  addition  to  their 
society  for  a  time.  But  she  was  so  supremely  indif 
ferent  to  him,  and  had  so  much  to  pleasurably  fill 
her  thoughts  and  days,  that  his  slight  promise  to 
prove  an  agreeable  visitor  caused  but  momentary 
3* 


58  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

annoyance.  But  a  glimmer  of  a  smile  flitted  across 
her  face  as  she  thought: 

"  He  may  find  himself  slightly  mistaken  in  regard 
to  me  after  all.  His  face  seemed  to  say,  "  No  doubt 
she  is  a  good  young  woman,  and  well  enough  for 
this  slow  country  place,  but  she  has  no  beauty,  no 
style." 

"  I  think  I  can  manage  to  disturb  the  even  cur 
rent  of  his  vanity,"  she  thought,  "  if  he  will  stay 
long  enough,  and  he  shall  learn  at  least  that  I  will 
not  gape  admiringly  at  his  artificial  metropolitan 
airs." 

Her  manner  toward  Gregory  remained  full  of 
kindness  and  grace,  but  she  made  no  effort  to  secure 
his  attention  and  conversation,  as  he  feared.  She 
acted  as  if  she  were  accustomed  to  see  such  persons 
as  himself  at  her  father's  breakfast-table  every  morn 
ing;  and,  though- habitually  wrapped  up  in  himself, 
Gregory  soon  became  dimly  conscious  that  her 
course  toward  him  was  different  from  what  he  ex 
pected. 

Miss  Eulie  was  all  solicitude  in  view  of  his  char 
acter  of  invalid,  and  the  children  looked  at  him  with 
curious  eyes  and  growing  disapprobation.  There 
was  nothing  in  him  to  secure  their  instinctive  friend 
ship,  and  he  made  no  effort  to  win  their  sympathies. 

The  morning  meal  commenced  with  a  reverent 
looking  to  heaven  for  God's  blessing  on  the  gifts 
which  were  acknowledged  as  coming  from  Him ; 
and  even  Gregory  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the 
brief  rite  did  not  appear  like  a  careless  signing  of  the 


HOW  MISS    WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE.         59 

cross,  nor  a  shrivelled  form  from  which  spirit  and 
meaning  had  departed,  but  a  sincere  expression  of 
loving  trust  and  gratitude. 

Mr.  Walton  dwelt  on  the  circumstances  that  led 
to  his  friendship  with  Walter's  father  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  meal,  but  at  last  the  conversation 
flagged  a  little  as  the  young  man  made  so  little 
effort  to  maintain  it. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Walton  turned  to  his  daughter 
and  said  :  "  By  the  way,  Annie,  you  have  not  told 
me  where  you  found  Mr.  Gregory,  for  my  impression 
is  that  you  brought  him  down  from  the  hills." 

"  I  was  about  to  say  that  I  found  him  in  a  chest 
nut  burr,"  replied  Annie,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye. 
"  At  least  I  found  a  stranger  by  the  cedar  thicket, 
and  he  proved  out  of  a  chestnut  burr  who  he  was, 
and  his  right  to  acquaintance  with  a  better  logic 
than  I  supposed  him  capable  of." 

"  Indeed,"  asked  Walter  quickly,  feeling  the 
prick  of  her  last  words  ;  "  on  what  ground  were  you 
led  to  estimate  my  logic  so  slightingly?" 

"  On  merely  general  grounds  ;  but  you  see  I  am 
open  to  all  evidence  in  your  favor.  City  life  has  no 
doubt  great  advantages,  but  it  also  has  greater  draw 
backs." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  I  cannot  think  of  them  all  now.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  if  you  had  always  lived  in  the  city  you 
could  not  have  interpreted  a  chestnut  burr  so 
gracefully  Many  there  seem  to  forget  nature's 
lore." 


60  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  But  may  they  not  learn  other  things  more  val 
uable  ?  " 

Miss  Walton  shook  her  head,  and  said  with  a 
laugh,  "  An  ignorant  exhorter  once  stated  to  his 
little  schoolhouse  audience  that  Paul  was  brought  up 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  Gamaliel.  I  almost  wish  he 
were  right,  for  I  should  have  had  more  confidence  in 
the  teachings  of  the  hill  than  of  the  narrow-minded 
Jewish  Rabbi." 

"  And  yet  you  regard  Paul  as  the  very  chief  of 
the  apostles." 

"  He  became  such  after  he  was  taught  of  Him 
who  teaches  through  the  hills  and  nature  generally." 

"  My  daughter  is  an  enthusiast  for  nature,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Walton. 

"  If  the  people  are  the  same  as  when  I  was  here 
a  boy,  the  hills  have  not  taught  the  majority  very 
much,"  said  Walter  with  a  French  shrug. 

"  Many  of  them  have  a  better  wisdom  than  you 
think,"  answered  Annie  quietly. 

"  In  what  does  it  consist  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  one  thing  they  know  how  to  enjoy 
life,  and  add  to  the  enjoyment  of  others." 

Walter  looked  at  her  keenly  for  a  moment,  but 
saw  nothing  that  would  lead  him  to  think  that  she 
was  speaking  on  other  than  general  principles ;  but 
he  said,  a  little  moodily,  as  they  rose  from  the  table, 
"  that  certainly  is  a  better  wisdom  than  is  usually 
attained  in  either  city  or  country." 

"  It  is  not  our  custom  to  make  company  of  our 
friends,"  said  Mr.  Walton  cordially.  "We  hope 


HOW  MZSf    WALTON  MANAGED  PEOPLE.         6l 

you  will  feel  completely  at  home,  and  come  and  go 
and  do  just  what  you  find  agreeable.  We  dine  at 
two,  and  have  an  early  supper  on  account  of  the 
children.  There  are  one  or  two  fair  saddle  horses 
on  the  place,  but  if  you  do  not  feel  strong  enough 
for  that  Annie  can  drive  you  out,  and  I  assure  you 
she  is  a*t  home  in  the  management  of  a  horse." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  echoed  the  little  boy.  Aunt  An 
nie  can  manage  anything  or  anybody." 

"  That  is  a  remarkable  power,"  said  Walter  with 
an  amused  look  and  side  glance  at  the  young  lady. 
"  How  does  she  do  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  dont  know,"  replied  the  boy  ;  "  she  sorter 
makes  them  love  her  and  then  they  want  to  do  as 
she  says." 

A  momentary  wrathful  gleam  shot  from  Annie's 
eyes  at  her  indiscreet  little  champion,  but  with 
heightened  color  she  joined  in  the  laugh  that  fol 
lowed. 

Gregory  had  the  ill  grace  to  say  with  a  sort  of 
mocking  gallantry  as  he  bowed  himself  out. 

"  It  must  be  delightful  to  be  managed  on  such 
terms. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT  ? 

PUTTING  on  a  light  overcoat  for  the  morning  air 
was  sharp  and  bracing,  Walter  soon  found  him 
self  in  the  old  square  garden.  Though  its  glory  was 
decidedly  on  the  wane,  it  was  as  yet  unnipped  by 
the  frost.  It  had  a  neatness  and  order  of  its  own 
that  were  quite  unlike  those  where  nature  is  in  en 
tire  subserviency  to  art.  Indeed,  it  looked  very 
much  as  he  remembered  it  in  the  past,  and  he  wel 
comed  its  unchanged  aspect.  He  strolled  to  many 
other  remembered  boyish  haunts,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  the  very  lichens  and  mosses  grew  in  the  same 
places  and  nature  had  stood  still  and  awaited  his. 
return. 

And  yet  every  familiar  object  chided  him  for 
being  so  changed,  and  he  began  to  find  more  of 
pain  than  pleasure  as  this  contrast  between  himself 
and  what  he  had  been,  and  might  have  been,  was 
constantly  forced  upon  him. 

"Oh!  that  I  had  *  never  left  this  place,"  he  ex 
claimed  bitterly.  4<  It  would  have  been  better  to 
have  stayed  here  and  drudged  as  a  day  laborer. 
What  has  that  career  out  in  the  world  to  which  I 
looked  forward  so  ardently  amounted  to  ?  The 


WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT?  63 

present  is  disappointment  and  self-disgust,  the  fu 
ture  an  indefinite  region  of  fears  and  forebodings, 
and  even  the  happy  past  is  becoming  a  bitter  mock 
ery  by  reminding  me  of  what  can  never  be  again." 

Wearied  and  despondent,  he  moodily  returned 
to  the  house  and  threw  himself  on  a  lounge  in  the 
parlor  where  a  smouldering  wood  fire  upon  the 
hearth  softened  the  air  to  summer  temperature. 
The  heat  was  grateful  to  his  chilled,  bloodless  body 
and  gave  him  a  luxurious  sense  of  physical  comfort, 
and  he  muttered  : 

"  I  had  about  purposed  to  leave  this  place  with 
its  memories  that  are  growing  into  torment,  but  I 
suppose  it  would  be  the  same  anywhere  else.  I  am. 
too  weak  and  ill  to  face  new  scenes  and  discomfort. 
A  little  animal  enjoyment  and  bodily  respite  from 
pain  seem  about  all  that  is  left  to  me  of  existence,  and 
I  think  I  can  find  these  here  better  than  elsewhere. 
If  I  am  expected  however,  to  fall  under  the  manage 
ment  of  the  daughter  of  the  house  on  the  terms  blur 
ted  out  by  that  fidgety  nephew  of  hers,  I  will  fly  for 
my  life.  A  plague  on  him  !  His  restlessness  makes 
me  nervous.  If  I  could  endure  a  child  at  all,  the 
blue-eyed  little  girl  would  make  a  pretty  toy." 

Sounds  from  the  sitting-room  back  of  the  parlor 
now  caught  his  attention,  and  listening  he  soon 
became  aware  that  Miss  Walton  was  teaching  the 
children. 

"  She  has  just  the  voice  for  a  '  schoolmarm  '  "  he. 
thought — "  quick,  clear  cut,  and  decided." 

If  he  had  not  given  way  to  unreasonable  preju- 


64  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

dice  he  might  also  have  noted  that  there  was  noth 
ing  harsh  or  querulous. 

"  She  doubtless  thinks  herself  the  personification 
of  goodness  with  her  managment  and  love  of  nature. 
I  suppose  I  shall  be  well  lectured  before  I  get  away. 
I  had  a  foretaste  of  it  this  morning.  '  Drawbacks  of 
city  life/  forsooth  !  She  no  doubt  regards  me  as  a 
result  of  these  disadvantages.  But  if  she  should  come 
to  deem  it  her  mission  to  convert  or  reform  me, 
then  will  be  lost  my  small  remnant  of  peace  and 
comfort." 

But  weakness  and  weariness  soon  inclined  him 
to  sleep.  Miss  Walton's  voice  sounded  far  away. 
Then  it  passed  into  his  dream  as  Miss  Bently's  chid 
ing  him  affectedly  for  his  wayward  tendencies  ;  again 
it  was  explaining  that  conscientious  young  lady's 
"  sense  of  duty  "  in  view  of  Mr.  Grobb's  offer,  and 
even  in  his  sleep  his  face  darkened  with  pain  and 
wrath. 

Just  then,  school  hours  being  over,  Miss  Walton 
came  into  the  parlor.  For  a  moment,  as  she  stood 
by  the  fire,  she  did  not  notice  its  unconscious  occu 
pant.  Then  seeing  him,  she  was  about  to  noiselessly 
leave  the  room,  when  the  expression  of  his  face 
arrested  her  steps. 

If  Annie  Walton's  eyes  suggested  the  probability 
of  "sudden  gusts,"  they  also  at  times  announced  a 
warm,  kind  heart,  for  as  she  looked  at  him  now  her 
face  instantly  softened  to  pity. 

"  Good  he  is  not,"  she  thought,  "  but  he  evidently 
suffers  in  his  evil.  Something  is  blighting  his  life, 


WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT t  65 

and  what  can  blight  a  life  save  evil  ?  Perhaps  I  had 
better  change  my  purposed  crusade  against  his  van 
ity  and  cynicism  to  a  kind,  sisterly  effort  toward 
making  him  a  better  and  therefore  a  happier  man. 
It  will  soon  come  out  in  conversation  that  I  have 
long  been  the  same  as  engaged  to  another,  and  this 
will  relieve  me  of  absurd  suspicions  of  designs  upon 
him.  If  I  could  win  a  friendly  confidence  on  his 
part,  I'm  sure  I  could  tell  him  some  wholesome 
truths,  for  even  an  enemy  could  scarcely  look  on 
that  face  without  relenting.'' 

There  was  nothing  slow  or  cumbrous  about  An 
nie.  These  thoughts  had  flashed  through  her  mind 
during  the  brief  moment  that  her  eyes  softened  frgm 
surprise  into  sympathy  as  they  caught  the  express 
ion  of  Gregory's  face.  Then  fearing  to  disturb  him, 
she  passed  out  to  her  wonted  morning  duties  with 
silent  tread. 

How  seemingly  accidental  was  that  visit  to  the 
parlor !  Its  motive  indefinite  and  forgotten.  Ap 
parently  it  was  but  a  trivial  episode  of  an  unevent 
ful  day,  involving  no  greater  catastrophe  than  the 
momentary  rousing  of  a  sleeper  who  would  doze 
again.  But  what  day  can  we  with  certainty  call 
uneventful,  and  what  episode  trivial  ?  Those  half- 
aimless,  purposeless  steps  of  Annie  Walton  into 
the  quiet  parlor  might  lead  to  results  that  would 
radically  change  the  endless  future  to  several 
lives. 

In  her  womanly,  pitying  nature,  had  not  God 
sent  his  angel  ?  If  a  viewless  "  ministering  spirit," 


66  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

as  the  sinful  man's  appointed  guardian,  was  present, 
as  many  believe  is  true  of  every  one,  how  truly  he 
must  have  welcomed   this  unselfish  human  compan 
ionship  in  his  loving  labor  to  save  life  ;  for  only  they 
who  rescue  from  sin  truly  save  life. 

And  yet  the  sleeper,  even  in  his  dreams,  evi 
dently  was  at  war  with  himself,  the  world,  and  God. 
He  was  an  example  of  the  truth  that  good  comes 
from  without  and  not  within  us.  ^Jlt  is  heaven  stoop 
ing  to  men ;  heaven's  messengers  sent  to  us  ;  truth 
quickened  in  our  minds  by  heavenly  influence  even 
as  sunlight  and  rain  awaken  into  beautiful  life  the 
seeds  hidden  in  the  soil ;  and  above  all,  impulses  di 
rect  from  God,  that  steal  into  our  hearts  as  the  south 

. 

wind  penetrates  ice-bound  gardens  in  spring. 

But,  alas  !  multitudes  like  Walter  Gregory  blind 
their  eyes  and  steel  their  hearts  against  such  influ 
ences.  God  and  those  allied  to  Him  longed  to 
bring  the  healing  of  faith  and  love  to  his  wounded 
spirit.  He  scowled  back  his  answer,  and,  as  he  then 
felt,  would  shrink  with  morbid  sensitiveness  and  dis 
like  from  the  kindest  and  most  delicate  presentation 
of  the  transforming  truth.  But  the  Divine  love  is 
ever  seeking  to  win  our  attention  by  messengers  in 
numerable  :  now  by  the  appalling  storm,  again  by  a 
summer  sunset  \  now  by  an  awful  providence,  again 
by  a  great  joy ;  at  times  by  stern  prophets  and 
teachers,  but  more  often  by  the  gentle  human  agen 
cies  of  which  Annie  was  the  type,  as  with  pitying 
face  she  bent  over  the  worn  and  jaded  man  of  the 
world  and  hoped  and  prayed  that  she  might  be  able 


WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT^  67 

i 

to  act  the  part  cf  a  true  sister  toward  him.  Thorny 
and  guarded  was  every  avenue  to  his  heart ;  and  yet 
her  feminine  tact,  combined  with  the  softening  and 
purifying  influence  of  his  old  home,  might  gain  her 
words  acceptance  where  the  wisest  and  most  elo 
quent  would  plead  in  vain. 

After  dinner  he  again  hastened  forth  for  a  walk, 
his  purpose  being  to  avoid  company,  for  he  was  so 
moody  and  morbid,  so  weak,  nervous,  and  irritable, 
that  the  thought  of  meeting  and  decorously  con 
versing  with  those  whose  lives  and  character  were  a 
continued  reproach  was  intolerable.  Then  he  had 
the  impression  that  the  "  keen-eyed,  plain-featured 
Miss  Walton,"  as  he  caricatured  her  in  his  mind, 
would  surely  commence  discoursing  on  moral  and 
religious  subjects  if  he  gave  her  a  chance ;  and  he 
feared  that  if  she  did  he  would  say  or  do  something 
very  rude  and  confirm  the  bad  impression  that  he 
was  sure  of  having  already  made.  If  he  could  have 
strolled  into  his  club,  into  an  atmosphere  laden  with 
the  fumes  of  wine  and  tobacco,  and  among  groups 
engaged  with  cards,  papers,  and  city  gossip,  he 
would  have  felt  quite  at  home.  Ties  formed  at  such 
a  place  are  not  very  strong  or  tender  as  a  usual  thing, 
and  the  manner  of  the  world  can  isolate  the  mem 
bers  and  their  real  life  completely,  even  when  the 
rooms  are  thronged.  As  Walter  grew  worn  and 
thin  and  his  pallor  increased,  as  he  smoked  and 
brooded  more  and  more  apart  with  his  hat  drawn 
down  over  his  eyes,  his  companions  would  shrug 
theii  shoulders  significantly  and  whisper: 


68  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  It  looks  as  if  Gregory  would  go  under  soon. 
Something's  the  matter  with  him." 

At  first  good  natured  men  would  say,  "  Come 
Gregory,  take  a  hand  with  us,"  but  when  he  com 
plied  it  was  with  such  a  kill-joy,  listless  manner  that 
they  were  sorry  they  had  asked  him.  At  last,  be 
yond  mere,  passing  courtesies,  they  had  come  to 
leave  him  very  much  alone  ;  and  in  his  unnatural  and 
perverted  state  this  was  just  what  he  most  desired.. 
His  whole  being  had  become  a  diseased,  sensitive 
nerve,  shrinking  most  from  any  effort  toward  his 
improvement  even  as  a  finger  pointed  at  a  festering 
sore  causes  anticipating  agonies. 

At  the  club  he  would  be  let  alone,  but  these 
good  people  would  "  take  an  interest  in  him,"  and 
might  even  "talk  religion,"  and  probe  with  ques 
tions  and  surmises.  If  they  did,  he  knew,  from  what 
he  had  already  seen  of  them,  that  they  would  try  to 
do  it  delicately  and  kindly,  but  he  felt  that  the  most 
considerate  efforts  would  be  like  the  surgical  instru 
ments  of  the  dark  ages.  He  needed  good  decisive, 
heroic  treatment.  But  who  would  have  the  courage 
and  skill  to  give  it  ?  Who  cared  enough  for  him  to 
take  the  trouble  ? 

The  Divine  Physician  is  only  equal  to  such  cases. 
But  Christ  still  comes  to  earth  in  every  one  of  his 
true  followers — "  I  in  you."  Not  merely  with  eyes 
of  human  pity  had  Annie  Walton  looked  upon  his 
sin -marred  visage  that  morning.  The  Divine  per 
sonality,  enthroned  in  the  depths  of  her  soul  and 
permeating  her  life,  looked  commiserately  forth 


WAS  IT  AN  ACCIDENT?  fy 

also.     Could   demons  glare   from  human   eyes  and 
God  not  smile  from  them  ? 

As  Annie  thought  much  of  him  after  her  stolen 
glance  in  the  morning,  she  longed  to  do  that  which 
he  dreaded  she  would  try  to  do — attempt  his  con 
version.  Not  that  she  cared  for  him  personally,  nor 
had  grown  sentimental  or  interested  in  his  Byronic 
style  of  wretchedness.  So  far  from  it,  her  happy 
and  healthful  nature  was  repelled  by  his  diseased  and 
morbid  one.  She  found  him  what  girls  call  a  "  disa 
greeable  man."  But  God  dwelt  in  her  to  that  degree 
that  she  yearned  toward  a  sinning,  suffering  soul, 
found  in  any  guise.  It  was  not  in  her  woman's 
heart,  filled  with  heaven's  spirit,  to  pass  by  on  the 
other  side  and  leave  sin-robbed-and-wounded  crea 
tures  to  their  fate. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS 

TXTALTER'S  afternoon  walk  was  not  very  pro 
longed,  for  a  shivering  sense  of  discomfort 
soon  drove  him  back  to  the  house.  Though  the 
morning  had  been  cool  the  sun  shone  brightly  and 
warmly,  but  now  the  foreshadowing  of  a  storm  was 
evident.  A  haze  had  spread  over  the  sky,  increas 
ing  in  leaden  hue  and  density  toward  the  west. 
The  chilly  wind  moaned  fitfully  through  the  trees, 
and  the  landscape  darkened  as  a  face  might  with 
the  shadow  of  coming  trouble. 

Walter  dreaded  a  storm,  fearing  it  would  shut 
him  up  with  the  family  without  escape  ;  but  at  last 
the  sun  so  enshrouded  itself  in  gloom  that  he  was 
compelled  to  return.  He  went  up  to  his  room  to 
get  a  book  that  he  had  brought,  hoping  that  when 
they  saw  him  engaged  in  that  he  might  escape  con 
versation  somewhat.  But  to  his  agreeable  surprise 
he  found  a  cheerful  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth,  and 
an  ample  supply  of  wood  in  a  box  near.  The  easy- 
chair  was  wheeled  forward,  and  a  plate  of  grapes 
and  the  latest  magazine  were  placed  invitingly  on 
the  table  by  its  side.  Even  his  cynicism  was  not 


UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  fi 

proof  against  this  delicate  thoughtfulness  of  his  com 
fort,  and  he  exclaimed : 

"  Ah,  this  is  better  than  I  expected,  and  a  hun 
dred-fold  better  than  I  deserve.  I  make  but  poor 
return  for  their  kindness.  This  cosey  room  seems  to 
say,  '  We  won't  force  ourselves  on  you.  You  can  be 
alone  as  much  as  you  like,'  for  I  suppose  they  must 
have  noticed  my  disinclination  for  society  and  talk. 
But  they  are  wise  after  all,  for  I  am  cursed  poor 
company  for  myself  and  worse  than  none  at  all  for 
others." 

Eating  from  time  to  time  a  ripe  Concord  grape, 
that  type  of  juicy  steak  among  fruits,  he  so  lost  him 
self  in  the  fresh  thoughts  of  the  magazine  that  the 
tea-bell  rang  ere  he  was  aware. 

"  In  the  name  of  decency  I  must  try  to  make 
myself  agreeable  for  a  little  while  this  evening,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  descended  to  the  cheerful  dining- 
room.  Again  simple  grace  was  said  ;  and  he  found 
that  at  every  meal  there  was  the  same  grateful  rec 
ognition  of  God  as  the  giver,  of  all  good  to  which  he 
had  been  accustomed  when  a  boy.  The  thought 
flashed  across  him,  "  If  they  really  believe  as  they 
profess,  how  natural  and  right  is  this  acknowledge 
ment." 

There  is  nothing  like  religion  lived  out  to  open  a 
heart  closed  against  it. 

To  their  solicitude  for  his  health  and  regret  that 
the  approaching  storm  had  driven  him  so  early  to 
the  house,  he  replied  : 

"  I  found  in  my  room  a  better  substitute  for  the 


72  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

sunlight  I  had  lost ;  though  as  a  votress  of  nature, 
Miss  Walton,  I  suppose  you  will  regard  this  asser 
tion  as  rank  heresy." 

"  Not  at  all,  for  your  firelight  is  the  result  of  sun 
light,"  answered  Annie,  smiling. 

"How  is  that?" 

"  It  required  many  summers  of  sunshine  to  ripen* 
the  wood  that  blazed. on  your  hearth.  Indeed,  good 
dry  wood  is  but  concentrated  sunshine  put  by  for 
use  on  cold,  gloomy  days  and  chilly  nights." 

That  is  an  odd  fancy.  I  wish  there  were  other 
ways  for  storing  up  sunshine  for  future  use." 

"  There  are,"  said  Miss  Walton,  cheerily ;  and 
she  looked  up  as  if  she  would  like  to  say  more,  but 
Walter  instantly  changed  the  subject  in  his  instinct 
ive  wish  to  avoid  the  faintest  approach  to  moraliz 
ing.  Still,  conversation  continued  quite  brisk  till  Mr. 
Walton. asked  suddenly : 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Gregory,  have  you  ever  met 
Mr.  Hunting  of  Wall  Street  ?  " 

There  was  no  immediate  answer,  and  they  all 
looked  inquiringly  at  him.  To  their  surprise  his 
face  was  darkened  by  the  heaviest  frown.  After  a 
moment  he  said,  with  peculiar  emphasis : 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  him  well." 

A  chill  seemed  to  fall  on  them  after  that ;  and 
Walter  glancing  up  saw  that  Annie  looked  flushed 
and  indignant,  Miss  Eulie  pained,  and  Mr.  Walton 
was  very  grave.  Even  the  little  t»by  shot  vindictive 
glances  at  him.  He  at  once  surmised  that  Hunting 
was  related  to  the  family,  and  was  oppressed  with 


UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS.  73 

the  thought  that  he  was  fast  losing  the  welcome 
given  him  on  his  father's  account.  But  in  a  few 
moments  Annie  rallied  and  made  unwonted  efforts 
to  banish  the  embarassment  they  all  seemed  under, 
and  with  partial  success,  for  Gregory  had  tact  and 
good  conversational  powers  if  he  chose  to  exert 
them.  When,  soon  after,  they  adjourned  to  the  par 
lor,  outward  serenity  reigned. 

On  either  side  of  the  ample  hearth,  on  which 
blazed  a  hickory  fire,  two  tables  were  drawn  up. 
An  easy-chair  stood  invitingly  by  each,  wjth  a  little 
carpet  bench  on  which  to  rest  the  feet. 

"  Take  one  of  these,"  said  Mr.  Walton  cordially, 
•'  and  join  me  with  a  cigar.  The  ladies  of  my  house 
hold  are  indulgent  to  my  small  vices." 

"  And  I  will  send  for  your  magazine,"  said  Annie, 
"  and  then  you  can  read  and  chat  according  to  your 
moods.  You  see  that  we  do  not  intend  to  make 
company  of  you." 

"  For  which  I  am  very  glad.  You  treat  me  far 
better  than  I  deserve." 

Insteaci  of  some  deprecatory  remark,  or  a  state- 
merit  of  the  sound  but  rather  trite  doctrine  that  so 
all  are  treated,  Annie  gave  him  a  quick,  half-comical 
look  which  he  did  not  fully  understand. 

"  There  is  more  of  her  than  I  thought,"  he  said 
to  himself. 

Seated  with  the  magazine,  Gregory  found  him 
self  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  element  of  comfort. 
That  he  might  be  under  no  constraint  to  talk,  Annie 
commenced  speaking  to  her  father  and  Miss  Eulie 
4 


74  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  some  neighborhood  affairs,  of  which  he  knew 
nothing.  The  children  and  a  large  greyhound 
were  dividing  the  rug  between  them.  The  former 
were  chatting  in  low  tones  and  roasting  the  first 
gleaning  of  chestnuts  on  a  broad  shovel  that  wa? 
placed  on  the  glowing  coals.  The  dog  was  sleepily 
watching  them  lest  in  their  quick  movements  his  tail 
should  come  to  grief. 

Walter  had  something  of  an  artist's  eye,  and  he 
could  not  help  glancing  up  from  his  reading  occa 
sionally,  and  thinking  what  a  pretty  picture  the 
roomy  parlor  made. 

"  Annie,"  said  Mr.  Walton  after  a  little  while," 
I  can't  get  through  this  article  with  my  old  eyes. 
Won't  you  finish  it  for  me  ?  " 

And  then  Walter  forgot  to  read  himself  in  listen 
ing  to  her.  Not  that  he  heard  the  subject  matter 
with  any  interest,  for  it  was  merely  an  account  of 
some  movement  on  foot  in  the  West.  But  the 
sweet,  natural  tone  and  simplicity  with  which  she 
read  arrested  and  retained  his  attention.  Even  the 
statistics  and  statements  of  political  economy  seemed 
to  fall  from  her  lips  in  musical  cadence,  and  yet 
there  was  no  apparent  effort  and  not  a  thought  of 
effect.  Walter  mused  as  he  listened. 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  some  quiet,  genial  book 
read  in  that  style,  though  it  is  evident  that  Miss 
Walton  is  no  tragedy  queen. 

Having  finished  the  reading,  Annie  started  briskly 
up  and  said : 

"  Come  little  kids,  your  chestnuts  are  roasted  and 


UNEXPECTED   CHESTNUT  BURRS.  75 

eaten.  It's  bedtime.  The  turkeys  and  squirrels 
will  be  at  the  nut  trees  long  before  you  to-morrow 
unfess  you  scamper  off  at  once." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Annie,"  chimed  their  voices,  "  you 
must  sing  us  the  chestnut  song  first ;.  you  prom 
ised  to. 

"  Well,  if  we  won't  disturb  Mr.  Gregory,  I  sup 
pose  I  must  make  my  promise  good,"  said  Annie. 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  join  the  children  in  asking  for  the 
song,"  said  Walter,  glad  to  get  them  out  of  the  way 
on  such  easy  conditions,  though  he  expected  a  nur 
sery  ditty  or  a  juvenile  hymn  from  some  Sabbath- 
school  collection,  where  healthy,  growing  boys  are 
made  to  sing,  "  I  want  to  be  an  angel."  "  More 
over,  I  have  read  that  one  must  always  keep  one's 
word  to  a  child." 

-*"  Which  is  a  very  important  truth,  do  you  not 
think  so  ?^\ 

"  Since  you  are  using  the  word  '  truth  '  so  promi 
nently,  Miss  Walton,  I  must  say  that  I  have  not 
thought  much  about  it.  But  I  certainly  would  have 
you  keep  your  word  on  this  occasion." 

"  Aunt  Annie  always  keeps  her  word,"  said  John 
nie  rather  bluntly.  By  some  childish  instinct  he 
divined  that  Gregory  did  not  appreciate  Aunt 
Annie  sufficiently,  and  this  added 'to  his  prejudice 
already  formed. 

"You  have  a  stout  little  champion  there,"  said 
Walter. 

"  I  cannot  complain  of  his  zeal,"  she  answered 
significantly,  at  the  same  time  giving  the  boy  a 


76  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

caress.  "  Mr.  Gregory,  this  is  a  rude  country  ballad, 
and  we  are  going  to  sing  it  in  our  accustomed  way, 
even  though  it  shocks  your  city  ears.  Johnnie  a'nd 
Susie,  you  can  join  in  the  chorus,"  and  she  sang  the 
following  simple  October  glee : 

Katydid  your  throat  is  sore, 
You  can  chirp  this  fall  no  more  ; 
Robin  red-breast,  summer's  past,  • 

Did  you  think  'twould  always  last  ? 
Fly  away  to  sunny  south, 
Oranges  will  fill  your  mouth  ; 
With  the  squirrels  we'll  gladly  stay 
And  put  our  store  of  nuts  away. 

'  Oh,  the  spiny  chestnut  burrs  !     Oh,  the  prickly  chestnut  burn 
Harsh  without,  lined  with  down. 
With  jolly  chestnuts,  plump  and  brown. 

Sorry  are  we  for  the  flowers, 
Miss  we  shall  our  summer  bowers  ; 
Still  we  welcome  frosty  Jack, 
Stealing  now  from  Greenland  back. 
And  the  burrs  will  welcome  him  ; 
When  he  knocks,  they'll  let  him  in. 
They  don't  know  what  Jack's  about ; 
Soon  he'll  turn  the  chestnuts  out. 
Oh,  the  spiny,  etc. — 

Turkey  gobbler  with  your  train, 
You  shall  scratch  the  leaves  in  vain  ; 
Barking  squirrel  with  whisking  tail, 
Your  sharp  eyes  shall  not  avail ; 
In  the  crisp  and  early  dawn, 
Scampering  across  the  lawn, 
We  will  beat  you  to  the  trees  ; 
Come  you  then  whene'er  you  please. 
Oh,  the  spiny,  etc. — 


UNEXPECTED   CHESTNUT  BURRS. 


77 


Gregory's  expression  as  she  played  a  simple  pre 
lude  was  simply  that  of  endurance,  but  when  she 
commenced  singing  the  changes  of  his  face  were 
rapid.  First  he  turned  toward  her  with  a  look  of 
interest,  then  of  surprise.  Miss  Eulie  could  not 
help  watching  him,  for,  though  well  on  in  life,  just 
such  a  character  had  never  risen  above  her  horizon. 
Too  gentle  to  censure,  she  felt  that  she  had  much 
cause  to  grieve  over  him. 

At  first  she  was  pleased  to  see  that  he  found  the 
ditty  far  different  and  more  to  his  taste  than  he  ex 
pected.  But  the  rapid  alteration  from  pleased  sur 
prise  and  enjoyment  to  something  like  a  scowl  of 
despair  and  almost  hate  she  could  not  understand. 
Following  his  eyes  she  saw  them  resting  on  the  boy 
who  was  now,  with  Susie's  childish  voice,  lustily 
joining  in  the  chorus  of  the  last  verse.  She  was  not 
sufficiently  skilled  to  know  that  to  Gregory's  diseased 
moral  nature  things  most  simple  and  wholesome  in 
themselves  were  most  repugnant.  She  could  not 
understand  that  the  tripping  little  song,  with  its 
wild-wood  life  and  movement — that  the  boy  singing 
with  the  delight  of  a  pure,  fresh  heart — told  him,  as 
no  labored  language  could,  how  hackneyed  and  blaze" 
he  was — how  far  and  hopelessly  he  had  drifted  from 
the  same  true  childhood. 

And  Miss  Walton,  turning  suddenly  toward  him, 
saw  the  same  dark  expression,  full  of  suffering  and 
impotent  revolt  at  his  destiny,  as  he  regarded  it,  and 
she  too  was  puzzled. 

"  You  do  not  like  our  foolish  little  song,"  she  said. 


78  OPENING    A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  envy  that  boy,  Miss  Walton,"  was  his  reply. 

Then  she  began  to  understand  him,  and  said 
gently,  "  You  have  no  occasion  to." 

"  I  wish  you,  or  any  one,  could  find  the  logic  to 
prove  that." 

"  The  proof  is  not  in  logic  but  nature,  that  is 
ever  young.  They  who  draw  their  life  from  nature 
do  not  fall  into  the  only  age  we  need  dread." 

14  Do  you  not  expect  to  grow  old  ?" 

She  shook  her  head  half  humorously  and  said, 
"  But  these  children  will  before  I  get  them  to  bed." 

Walter  again  ostensibly  resumed  his  magazine, 
but  did  not  turn  any  leaves. 

His  first'  mental  query  was,  "  Have  I  rightly 
guaged  Miss  Walton  ?  I  half  believe  she  under 
stands  me  better  than  I  do  her.  I  estimated  her  as 
a  goodish,  fairly  educated  country  girl,  of  the  church- 
going  sort,  one  that  would  be  dreadfully  shocked  at 
finding  me  out,  and  deem  it  at  once  her  mission  to 
pluck  me  as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  I  know  all 
about  the  goodness  of  such  girls.  They  don't  know 
the  world  ;  they  have  never  been  tempted,  and  they 
have  a  brood  of  little  feminine  weaknesses  that  of 
course  are  not  paraded,  in  public. 

"  And  no  doubt  all  this  is  true  of  Miss  Walton 
when  I  come  to  find  her  out,  and  yet  for  some  rea 
son  she  interests  me  a  little  this  evening.  Of  course 
she  is  refined  and  ladylike,  but  nowhere  in  the  world 
will  you  find  drearier  monotony  and  barrenness  than 
among  refined  people.  Having  no  real  orfginality, 
their  little  oddities  are  polished  away.  In  Miss 


UNEXPECTED  CHESTNUT  BURRS. 


79 


Walton  I'm  beginning  to  catch  glimpses  of  vistas 
unexplored,  though  perhaps  I  am  a  fool  for  thinking 
so. 

"  What  a  peculiar  voice  she  has.  She  would 
make  a  poor  figure,  though,  in  the  best  operas,  yet 
she  might  render  a  simple  aria  very  well.  But  for 
songs  of  nature  and  ballads  I  have  never  heard  so 
sympathetic  a  voice.  It  suggests  a  power  of  making 
music  a  sweet  home  language  instead  of  a  difficult, 
high  art,  attainable  by  few.  Really,  Miss  Walton  is 
worth  investigation  for  no  one  with  such  a  voice 
can  be  entirely  common-place.  What  is  strange, 
also,  I  cannot  ignore  her.  Though  she  makes  no 
effort  to  attract  my  attention,  I  am  ever  conscious 
of  her  presence." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  CONSPIRACY. 

"\ "\T HEN  Miss  Walton  returned  to  the  parlor  her 
father  said :  "  Annie,  I  am  going  to  trespass 
on  your  patience  again." 

"  Beware,"  she  answered,  with  a  little  piquant 
gesture,  and  was  soon  reading  in  natural,  easy  tones, 
without  much  stumbling,  what  must  have  been  Greek 
to  her. 

Gregory  watched  her  with  increasing  interest, 
and  another  question  than  the  one  of  finance  involved 
in  the  article  was  rising  in  his  mind. 

"  Is  this  real?  Is  this  seeming  goodness  a  fact?" 
It  was  the  very  essence  of  his  perverted  nature  to 
doubt  it.  Now  that  his  eyes  were  opened,  and  he 
closely  observed  Miss  Walton,  he  saw  that  his  preju 
dices  against  her  were  groundless.  Though  not  a 
stylish,  pretty  woman,  she  was  anything  but  a  good- 
ish,  commonplace  character  that  he  would  regard  as 
part  of  the  furniture  of  the  house,  useful  in  its  place, 
but  of  no  more  interest  than  a  needful  piece  of  cab 
inet  work.  Nor  did  she  assert  herself  as  one  of  those 
aggressive,  lecturing  females  whose  mission  it  is  to 
set  everybody  right  within  their  sphere. 

And  yet  she  did  assert  herself ;  but  he  was  com- 


A    CONSPIRACY.  8 1 

pelled  to  admit  that  it  was  as  a  summer  breeze 
might,  or  the  perfume  of  a  rose.  He  had  resolved 
that  very  day  to  shun,  avoid,  and  ignore  her  as  far 
as  possible,  and  yet,  before  the  first  evening  in  her 
presence  was  half  over,  he  had  left  a  magazine  story 
unfinished — he  was  watching  her,  thinking  and  sur 
mising  about  her,  and  listening,  as  she  read,  to  what 
he  did  not  care  a  straw  about.  Though  she  had  not 
made  the  slightest  effort,  some  influence  from  her 
had  stolen  upon  him  like  a  cool  breeze  on  a  sultry 
day,  and  wcroed  him  as  gently  as  the  perfume  of  a 
flower  that  is  sweet  to  all.  He  sneeringly  said  to 
himself,  "  She  is  not  pretty,"  and  yet  found  pleasure 
in  watching  her  red  lips  drop  figures  and  financial 
terms  as  musically  as  a  little  rill  might  murmur 
over  a  mossy  rock. 

From  behind  his  magazine  he  studied  the  group 
at  the  opposite  table,  but  it  was  with  the  pain  that 
a  despairing  swimmer,  swept  seaward  by  a  resist 
less  current,  might  see  the  safe  and  happy  on  the 
shore. 

Gray  Mr.  Walton  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  the 
embodiment  of  peace  and  placid  content.  The 
subject  to  which  he  was  listening  and  kindred  topics 
had  so  far  receded  that  his  interest  was  -that  of  a 
calm,  philosophic  observer,  and  Walter  thought,  with 
a  glimmer  of  a  smile : 

"  He  is  not  dabbling  in  stocks  or  he  could  not 
maintain  that  quiet  mien." 

His  habits  of  thought  as  a  business  man  merely 
made  it  a  pleasure  to  keep  up  with  the  times.  In 
4* 


82  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

fact  he  was  in  that  serene  border-land  between  the 
two  worlds  where  the  questions  of  earth  are  grow 
ing  vague  and  distant  and-  those  of  the  "  better 
country "  more  real  and  engrossing,  for  Walter 
observed,  later  in  the  evening,  that  he  took  the 
family  Bible  with  more  zest  than  he  had  bestowed 
on  the  motive  power  of  the  world.  It  was  evident 
where  his  most  valued  treasures  were  stored.  With 
a  bitter  sigh,  Walter  thought : 

"  I  would  take  his  gray  hairs  if  I  could  have  his 
peace  and  faith." 

Miss  Eulie  to  whom  he  gave  a  passing  glance, 
seemed  even  less,  of  earth,  or  earthly,  in  her  nature. 
Indeed,  it  appeared  as  if  she  might  never  have  more 
than  half  belonged  to  the  material  creation.  Slight, 
ethereal,  with  untroubled  blue  eyes,  and  little  puff 
curls  too  light  to  show  their  change  to  gray,  she 
struck  Gregory  unpleasantly,  as  if  she  were  a  con 
necting  link  between  gross  humanity  and  spiritual 
existence,  and  his  eyes  reverted  to  and  dwelt  with 
increasing  interest  on  Miss  Walton.  There  at  least 
was  youth,  health,  and  something  else — what  was  it 
in  the  girl  that  had  so  strongly  and  suddenly  gained 
his  attention  ?  At  any  rate  there  was  nothing  about 
her  uncanny  and  spirit-like — nothing  that  made  a 
bad  man  think  of  dying. 

And  yet  he  could  not  understand  her.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  a  young  girl,  not  much  beyond 
twenty,  could  be  happy  in  the  care  of  orphan  chil 
dren,  in  the  quiet  humdrum  duties  of  housekeeping, 
and  in  reading  stupid  articles  through  the  long, 


A    CONSPIRACY.  83 

quiet  evenings,  her  excitements  being  church-going, 
rural  tea-drinkings,  and  country  walks  and  rides  ? 
With  a  grim  smile  he  thought  how  soon  the  belles 
he  had  admired  would  expire  under  such  a  regimen. 
Could  this  be  good  acting  because  a  guest  was  pres 
ent  ?  If  so  it  was  perfect,  for  it  seemed  part  of  every 
day  life. 

"  I  will  watch  her,"  he  thought.  "  I  will  solve 
this  little  feminine  enigma.  It  will  divert  my  mind, 
and  I've  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  My  daughter  spoils  me,  you  see,  Mr.  Gregory," 
said  Mr.  Walton  starting  up  as  Annie  finished  the 
theory  that  would  make  everybody  rich  by  the 
printing-press  process. 

"Don't  plume  yourself,  papa,"  replied  Annie, 
archly,  "  I  will  make  you  do  something  for  me  to 
pay  for  all  this." 

With  a  humorous  look  he  replied  :  "  No  matter, 
I  have  the  best  of  the  bargain,  for  I  would  have  to 
do  the  '  something '  any  way.  But  what  do  you 
think  of  this  theory,  sir?"  And  he  explained,  not 
knowing  that  Walter  had  been  listening. 

The  gentleman  were  soon  deep  in  the  mysteries 
of  currency  and  finance,  topics  on  which  both  could 
talk  well.  Annie  listened  with  polite  attention  for 
a  short  time — indeed  Gregory  was  exerting  himself 
more  for  her  sake  than  Mr.  Walton's — and  she  was 
satisfied  from  her  father's  face  that  his  guest  was  in 
teresting  him,  but  as  the  subject  was  mainly  unin 
telligible  to  her  she  soon  turned  with  real  zest  to 
Miss  Eulie's  fancy-work,  and  there  was  an  earnest 


84  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

whispered  discussion  in  regard  to  the  right  number 
of  stitches.  Walter  noted  this  and  sneeringly 
thought  to  himself,  with  a  masculine  phase  of  jus 
tice  often  seen : 

"  That's  like  a  woman.  She  drops  one  of  the 
deepest  and  most  important  subjects  of  the  day — 
(and  he  might  have  added  as  explained  by  me) — 
and  gives  her  whole  soul  to  a  bit  of  thread  lace  ; " 
and  he  soon  let  Mr.  Walton  have  the  discussion  all 
his  own  way. 

In  furtherance  of  his  purpose  to  draw  Annie  out 
he  said,  rather  banteringly  : 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  am  astonished  that  so  good  a 
man  as  your  father  should  have  as  an  ardent  friend 
the  profane  and  disreputable  character  that  I  found 
living  in  the  cottage  opposite,  on  the  day  of  my 
arrival." 

"  Profane,  I  admit  he  is,"  she  replied,  "  but  not 
disreputable.  Indeed,  as  the  world  goes,  I  think  old 
Daddy  Tuggar,  as  he  is  called  in  this  vicinity,  is  a 
good  man." 

"  Oh,  Annie  ?  "  said  Miss  Eulie.  "  How  can  you 
think  so  !  You  have  broader  charity  than  I.  He  is 
breaking  his  poor  wife's  heart." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Annie  dryly,  "  I  was  not  aware 
of  it." 

"  I  too  am  astonished,"  said  Walter,  in  mock 
solemnity,  "  How  is  it  that  a  refined  and  orthodox 
young  lady,  a  pillar  of  the  church,  too,  I  gather,  can 
regard  with  other  than  unmixed  disapprobation  a 


A    CONSPIRACY.  85 

man  who  breaks  the  third  commandment  and  every 
rule  of  Lindley  Murray  at  every  breath  ?  " 

"  I  imagine  the  latter  offence  is  the  more  heinous 
in  your  eyes,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said,  scanning  his 
face  with  a  quick  look. 

"  Oh,  you  become  aggressive.  I  was  under  the 
impression  that  I  was  making  the  attack  and  you  on 
the  defensive.  But  I  can  readily  explain  the  opinion 
which  you,  perhaps  not  unjustly,  impute  to  me.  You 
and  I  judge  this  venerable  sinner  from  different 
standpoints." 

"You  explain  your  judgment  but  do  not  justify 
it/'  replied.  Annie  quietly. 

"  Annie  I  don't  see  on  what  grounds  you  call 
Daddy  Tugger  a  good  man,"  said  Miss  Eulie  em 
phatically. 

"  Please  understand  me  Aunty,'.'  said  Annie 
earnestly.  "  I  did  not  say  he  was  a  Christian  man, 
but  merely  a  good  man  as  the  world  goes;  and  I 
know  I  shall  shock  you  when  I  say  that  I  have  more 
faith  in  him  than  in  his  praying  and  Scripture-quot 
ing  wife.  There,  I  knew  I  would,"  she  added  as  she 
saw  Miss  Eulie's  look  of  pained  surprise, 

Mr.  Walton  was  listening  with  an  amused  smile. 
He  evidently  understood  bis  quaint  old  friend  and 
shared  Annie's  opinion  of  him. 

Gregory  was  growing  decidedly  interested,  and 
said  :  "  Really  Miss  Walton,  I  must  side  with  your 
aunt  in  this  matter.  I  shall  overwhelm  you  with 
an  awful  word.  I  think  you  are  latitudinarian  in 
your  tendencies." 


86  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

11  Which  Daddy  Tugger  would  call  a  new-fangled 
way  of  swearing  at  me,"  retorted  Annie,  with  her 
frank  laugh  that  was  so  genuinely  mirthful  and  con 
tagious  that  even  Aunt  Eulie  joined  in  it. 

"I  half  think,"  continued  Annie,  "that  the 
churchmen  in  the  ages  of  controversy  did  a  good 
deal  of  worse  swearing  than  our  old  neighbor  is 
guilty  of  when  they  hurled  at  each  other  with  such 
bitter  zest  the  epithets  Antinomian,  Socinian,  Pela 
gian,  Calvanistic.''  etc. 

"  Those  terms  have  an  awful  sound.  They  smite 
my  ear  with  all  the  power  that  vagueness  imparts, 
and  surely  must  have  caused  stout  hearts  to  tremble 
in  their  day,"  said  Walter. 

"  I  have  got  you  off  the  ground  of  currency  and 
finance  now,"  said  Annie,  archly,  "  and  I  shall  leave 
you  to  imagine  that  I  know  all  about  the  ideas 
represented  by  the  polysyllabic  terms  of  churchmen's 
warfare." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  comic  dismay. 
Really  this  country  girl  was  growing  too  much  for 
him  in  his  game  of  banter. 

"  Miss  Walton  I  shall  not  dispute  or  question 
your  knowledge  of  the  Socin — cin — (you  know  the 
rest)  heresy." 

"Alas!  "  put  in  Annie  quietly,  "I  do  know  all 
about  the  sin  heresy.  I  can  say  that  honestly/' 

"  I  am  somewhat  inclined  to  doubt  that, "he  said 
quickly ;  then  added  in  sudden  and  mock  severity, 
"  Miss  Walton,  if  I  were  a  judge  upon  the  bench  I 
should  charge  that  you  were  evading  the  question 


A    CONSPIRACY.  g/ 

and  befogging  the  case.  The  point  at  issue  is,  How 
can  you  regard  Daddy  Tugger  as  a  good  man  ?  As 
evidence  against  him  I  can  state  that  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  had  such  a  good,  square  cursing 
in  my  life,  and  I  have  received  several." 

This  last  expression  caused  Miss  Eulie  to  open 
her  eyes  at  him. 

"  Not  for  your  sake,  sir,"  said  Annie  with  a 
keen  yet  humorous  glance  at  him,  "  who  as  judge 
on  the  bench  have  your  verdict  written  out  in  your 
pocket,  I  fear,  but  for  Aunt  Eulie's  I  will  give  the 
reasons  for  my  estimate.  I  regard  her  in  the 
light  of  an  honest  jury.  In  the  fii'st  place  the  term 
you  used,  'square,'  applies  to  him.  I  do  not 
think  he  could  be  tempted  to  do  a  dishonest 
thing ;  and  that  as  the  world  goes,  is  certainly  a 
good  point." 

"  And  as  the  church  goes,  too,"  put  in  Walter, 
cynically. 

"  He  is  a  good  neighbor,  and  considerate  of  the 
rights  of  others.  He  can  feel,  and  is  not  afraid  to 
show  a  sincere  indignation  when  seeing  a  wrong 
done  to  another." 

"  I  can  vouch  for  that,"  said  Walter.  "  I  shall 
steal  no  more  of  your  apples,  Mr.  Walton." 

"  There  is  not  a  particle  of  hypocrisy  about  him. 
I  wish  I  could  think  the  same  of  his  wife.  For  some 
reason  she  always  gives  me  the  impression  of  insin 
cerity.  If  I  were  as  good  as  you  are,  Aunty,  per 
haps  I  would  not  be  so  suspicious.  One  thing  more, 
and  my  eulogy  of  Daddy — the  only  one  he  will  ever 


88  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

receive,  I  fear — is  over.  He  is  capable  of  sincere 
friendship,  and  that  is  more  than  you  can  say  of  a 
good  many." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Walter  with  bitter  emphasis. 
"  I  should  be  willing  to  take  my  chances  with  Daddy 
Tuggar." 

"  You  had  better  not,"  said  Annie,  now  thor 
oughly  in  earnest. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  memories  of  this  place  would 
make  my  meaning  clear,"  she  replied  gently. 

"  Gregory's  face  darkened  and  he  admitted  to 
himself  that  most  unexpectedly  she  had  sent  an  ar 
row  home,  and  yet  he  could  take  no  exception. 

His  indifference  toward  her  had  vanished  now. 
So  far  from  regarding  her  as  a  dull,  good,  country 
girl  with  a  narrow  horizon  of  little  feminine  and 
common  place  interests,  he  began  to  doubt  whether 
he  should  be  able  to  cope  with  her  in  the  tilt  of 
thought.  He  saw  that  she  was  quick,  original,  and 
did  her  own  thinking — that  in  repartee  she  hit  back 
unexpectedly — in  flashes  like,  as  the  lightning  leaps 
out  of  the  clouds.  He  could  not  keep  pace  with  her 
quick  intuition. 

Moreover,  in  her  delicate  reference  to  his  parent's 
faith  she  had  suggested  an  argument  for  Christian 
ity  that  he  had  never  been  able  to  answer.  For  a 
little  time  she  had  caused  him  to  forget  his  wretched 
self,  but  her  last  remark  had  thrown  him  back  on  his 
old  doubts,  fears,  and  memories  that  were  fast  be 
coming,  in  the  main,  painful.  As  we  have  said,  his 


A   CONSPIRACY. 


89 


cynical,  despondent  expression  returned  and  he  si 
lently  lowered  at  the  fire. 

Annie  had  too  much  tact  to  add  a  word.  He 
must  be  hurt — well  probed  indeed — before  he  can 
be  well,"  she  thought. 

Country  bed-time  had  now  come,  and  Mr.  Wal 
ton  said,  "  Mr.  Gregory,  I  trust  you  will  not  find  our 
custom  of  family  prayers  distasteful." 

"  The  absence  of  such  a  custom  would  seem 
strange  to  me  in  this  place,"  replied  Walter,  but  he 
did  not  say  whether  it  would  be  agreeable  or  dis 
tasteful. 

Annie  went  to  the  piano  as  if  it  were  habit,  and 
after  a  moment  selected  the  tender  hymn — 

"  Come  ye  disconsolate." 

At  first,  Walter,  in  his  morbid  sensitiveness,  was 
inclined  to  resent  this  selection  as  aimed  at  him,  but 
soon  he  was  under  the  spell  of  the  music  and  the 
sentiment,  which  he  thought  were  never  before  so 
exquisitely  blended  together. 

Miss  Walton  was  not  very  finished  or  artistic  in 
anything.  She  would  not  be  regarded  as  a  scholar 
even  among  girls  of  her  own  age  and  station,  and 
her  knowledge  of  classical  music  was  quite  limited. 
But  she  was  gifted  in  a  peculiar  degree  with  tact,  a 
quick  perception  and  power  of  interpreting  the  lan 
guage  of  nature  and  the  heart.  She  read  and  es 
timated  character  rapidly.  Almost  intuitively  she 
saw  people's  needs  and  weaknesses,  but  so  far  from 
making  them  the  ground  of  satire  and  contempt 


go  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

they  awakened  her  pity  and  desire  to  help.  In  other 
words  she  was  one  of  those  Christians  who  in  some 
degree  catch  the  very  essence  of  Christ's  character, 
who  lived  and  died  to  save.  She  did  not  think  of 
condemning  the  guilty  and  disconsolate 'man  that 
brooded  at  her  fire-side,  but  she  did  long  to  help 
him. 

"  I  may  never  be  able  to  say  such  words  to  him 
direct,"  she  thought,  "  but  I  can  sing  them,  and  if 
he  leaves  our  home  to-morrow  he  shall  hear  the 
blessed  truth  once  more." 

And  she  did  sing  with  a  tenderness  and  feeling 
4hat  Walter  had  never  known  before.  In  rendering 
something  that  required  simplicity,  nature,  and 
pathos  no  prima  donna  could  surpass  her,  for  though 
her  voice  was  not  powerful  and  had  no  unusual  com 
pass,  it  was  as  sweet  as  that  of  a  thrush  in  May. 

Only  deaf  ears  and  a  stony  heart  could  have 
remained  insensible,  and  Gregory  was  touched.  A 
reviving  breath  from  Paradise  seemed  to  blow  upon 
him  and  gently  urge,  "  Arise,  struggle,  make  one 
more  effort  and  you  may  yet  cross  the  burning  sands 
of  the  desert.  It  is  not  a  mirage  that  is  mocking 
now." 

As  the  last  words  trembled  from  the  singer's  lips 
he  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  as  he  leaned  his 
head  upon  it,  but  Miss  Eulie  saw  a  tear  drop  with 
momentary  glitter  into  his  lap,  and  she  exulted  over 
him  as  his  good  angel  might. 

^f  If  penitent  tears  could  be  crystallized  they  would 
be  the  only  gems  of  earth  that  angels  would  covet, 


A   CONSPIRACY.  g\ 

and  perhaps  God's  co-workers  here  will  find  those 
that  they  caused  to  flow  on  earth  set  as  gems  in  their 
"  crown  of  glory  that  fadeth  not  away." 

Mr.  Walton,  in  reverential  tones,  read  the  fifty- 
third  chapter  of  Isaiah,  which,  with  greater  beauty 
and  tenderness,  carried  forward  the  thought  of  the 
hymn;  and  then  he  knelt  and  offered  a  prayer  so 
simple  and  childlike,  so  free  from  form  and  cant,  that 
seemed  to  come  so  direct  from  the  heart,  that  Wal 
ter  was  deeply  moved.  The  associations  of  his  early 
home  were  now  most  vividly  revived  and  crowned 
by  the  sacred  hour  of  family  worship,  the  memory 
of  which,  like  a  reproachful  face,  had  followed  him  in 
all  his  evil  life. 

When  he  arose  from  his  knees  he  again  shaded 
his  face  with  his  hand  to  hide  his  wet  eyes  and 
twitching  muscles.  After  a  few  moments  he  bade 
them  an  abrupt  "  good-night,"  and  retired  to  his 
room. 

At  first  they  merely  exchanged  significant 
glances.  Then  Miss  Eulie  told  of  the  tear  as  if  it 
were  a  bit  of  dust  from  a  mine  that  might  enrich 
them  all.  For  a  while  Annie  sat  thoughtfully  gaz 
ing  into  the  fire,  but  at  last  she  said : 

"  It  must  be  plain  to  us  that  Mr.  Gregory  is  not 
a  good  man — that  he  has  wandered  farther  from  his 
old  home  in  spirit  than  he  has  been  absent  in  body  ; 
but  it  seems  equally  evident  that  he  is  not  happy 
and  content  with  being  a  bad  man.  He  seems  suf 
fering  and  out  of  health  in  soul  and  body.  Perhaps 
God  has  sent  him  to  us  and  his  childhood's  home 


92 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


for  healing.  Let  us,  therefore,  be  very  careful,  very 
tender  and  considerate.  He  is  naturally  proud  and 
sensitive,  and  is  morbidly  so  now." 

"  I  think  he  is  near  the  Kingdom,"  said  Miss 
Eulie  with  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"  Perhaps  all  are  nearer  than  we  think,"  said 
Annie  in  a -musing  tone.  *  God  is  not  far  from  any 
one  of  us.'  But  it  is  the  curse  of  sin  to  blind.  He 
has,  no  doubt,  been  long  in  reaching  his  present 
unhappy  condition,  and  he  may  be  long  in  getting 
out  of  it." 

"  Well,  the  Lord  reigns,"  said  Mr.  Walton  sen- 
tentiously,  as  if  that  settled  the  question. 

"  Dear  old  father,"  said  Annie,  smiling  fondly  at 
him,  "  that's  your  favorite  saying.  You  have  a  com 
fortable  habit  of  putting  all  perplexing  questions  into 
the  Lord's  hand  and  borrowing  no  further  trouble. 
Perhaps  that  is  the  wisest  way  after  all,  only  one  is  a 
long  time  learning  it." 

"I've  been  a  longtime  learning  it,  my  child," 
said  her  father.  "  Let  us  agree  to  often  carry  his 
case  to  the  throne  of  mercy,  and  in  His  good  time 
and  way  our  prayers  will  be  answered." 

If  Mr.  Walton  could  have  seen  the  future,  might 
not  even  his  faith  have  shrank  back  appalled  ? 

But  thus  in  quaint,  old,  scriptural  style  they  con 
spired  for  the  life  of  their  unconscious  guest.  Tljis 
was  in  truth  a  "  holy  alliance."  How  many  dark 
conspiracies  there  have  been,  resulting  in.  blood, 
wrong,  and  outrage,  that  some  unworthy  brow  might 


A   CONSPIRACY. 


93 


wear  for  a  little  time  a  petty  perishing  crown 
of  earth  !  Oh,  that  there  were  more  conspiracies 
like  that  in  Mr.  Walton's  parlor  for  the  purpose  of 
rendering  the  unworthy  fit  to  wear  the  crown 
immortal ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WITCHCRAFT. 

TV/TISS  Eulie  was  doomed  to  disappointment,  for 
Walter  came  down  late  to  breakfast  the  fol 
lowing  morning  with  not  a  trace  of  his  softened  feel 
ings.  Indeed,  because  pf  pride,  or  for  some  reason, 
he  chose  to  seem  the  very  reverse  of  all  she  had 
hoped.  The  winter  of  his  unbelief  could  not  pass 
away  so  easily. 

Even  in  January  there  are  days  of  sudden  relent 
ing,  when  the  frost's  icy  grasp  upon  nature  seems  to 
relax.  Days  that  rightfully  belong  to  spring  drop 
down  upon  us  with  birds  that  have  come  before  their 
time.  But  such  days  may  end  in  a  northeast  snow 
storm  and  the  birds  perish. 

The  simile  appeared  true  of  Gregory.  As  far  as 
he  took  part  in  the  table  talk  he  was  a  cold,  finished 
man  of  the  world,  and  the  gloom  of  the  early  morn 
ing  seemed  resting  on  his  face.  But  Annie  noticed 
that  he  made  an  indifferent  breakfast  and  did  not 
appear  well. 

After  he  had  retired  to  his  room  to  write  some 
letters,  as  he  said,  she  remarked  to  her  father  when 
alone  with  him : 

"  I  suppose  you  remember  Mr.  Gregory's  manner 


WITCHCRAFT. 


95 


when  you  spoke  of  Mr.  Hunting.  They  evidently 
are  acquainted  and  not  on  good  terms.  What  could 
have  occurred  between  them  ?  " 

"  Some  quarrel  resulting  from  business  perhaps," 
said  Mr.  Walton  musingly. 

""I  believe  Charles  has  been  trying  to  restrain  Mr. 
Gregory  in   some  of  his  fast  ways,"  said  Annie  em 
phatically,  "  and   they  have  had  hot  words.     Men 
have  so  little  discretion  in  their  zeal." 

"  Businessmen  are  not  apt  to-interfere  with  each 
other's  foibles  unless  they  threaten  their  pockets," 
said  Mr.  Walton.  "  It  is  more  probable  that  Greg 
ory  has  borrowed  money  of  Hunting,  and  been  com 
pelled  to  pay  it  against  his  will — and  yet  I  have  no 
right  to  surmise  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  But  Mr.  Hunting  is  not  a  mere  business  man, 
father.  He  is  bent  on  doing  good  wherever  he  can 
find  opportunity.  I  incline  to  my  solution.  But  it 
is  clear  that  we  must  be  silent  in  regard  to  him 
while  Mr. -Gregory  is  with  us,  for  I  never  saw  such 
bitter  enmity  expressed  in  any  face.  It  is  well 
Charles  is  to  be  absent  for  some  time,  and  we  in  no 
prospect  of  a  visit  from  him  while  our  guest  is  here. 
I  feel  sure  that  we  should  have  an  awkward  time  if 
he  came.  Oh  dear  !  I  wish  Charles  would  come  and 
make  such  a  visit  instead  of  this  moody,  wayward 
stranger." 

" 1  can  echo  that  wish  heartly,  Annie,  for  in  the 
son  I  find  little  of  my  old  friend,  his  father.  But 
remember  what  you  said  last  night.  It  may  be  that 


96  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

he  was  sent  to  us  in  order  that  we  should  help  him 
become  what  his  father  was." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  father ;  but  I  do  not  look 
forward  to  his  society  with  much  pleasure.  Still  if 
there  should  be  any  such  result  as  we  hope  for,  I 
would  feel  repaid  a  thousand-fold." 

Walter  finished  his  letters  and  then  paced  rest 
lessly  up  and  down  his  room. 

"  That  this  country  girl  should  have  so  moved 
and  shaken  me!  "  he  muttered.  "What  does  it 
mean  ?  What  is  there  about  her  that  takes  hold  of 
my  attention  and  awakens  my  interest  ?  I  wish  to 
go  down  stairs  now,  and  talk  to  her,  and  have  her 
read  to  me,  and  am  provoked  with  myself  that  I  do. 
Yesterday  at  this  time  I  wished  to  avoid  her." 

Tramp,  tramp,  back  and  forth. 

"  Why  should  I  wish  to  avoid  her  ?  If  she  amuses 
me,  diverts  my  mind,  beguiles  my  pain,  or  more 
dreary  apathy,  why  not  let  her  exert  her  power  to 
the  utmost  and  make  herself  useful  ?  Yes,  but  she 
will  try  to  do  more  than  amuse.  Well,  suppose  she 
does;  a  man  like  yourself  can  coolly  foil  such  ef 
forts.  Not  so  sure  of  that.  If  I  were  dealing  with 
a  man  of  the  world  I  could,  but  one  must  be  worse 
than  a  clod  to  hear  her  sing  and  not  feel.  I  suppose 
I  made  a  weak  fool  of  myself  before  them  all  last 
'night,  and  they  thought  I  was  on  the  eve  of  con 
version.  I  half  wish  I  were,  or  on  the  eve  of  any 
thing  else.  Any  change  from  my  present  state 
would  seem  a  relief.  But  a  man  cannot  go  into  these 
things  like  an  impulsive  girl,  even  if  he  believes  in 


WITCHCRAFT. 


97 


them,  which  is  more  than  I  do.  I  seem  to  have 
fallen  into  a  state  of  moral  and  physical  imbecility, 
in  which  I  can  only  doubt,  suffer,  and  chafe." 

Tramp,  tramp,  back  and  forth. 

"  I  won't  avoid  her.  I  will  study  and  analyze 
her  character.  I  doubt  whether  she  is  as  good,  fresh, 
and  original  as  she  seems.  Such  girls  exist  only  in 
moral  stories,  and  I've  met  but  few  even  there.  I 
will  solve  her  mystery.  Probably  it  is  not  a  very 
deep  one,  and  after  a  day  or  two  she  will  become  an 
old  story  and  life  resume  its  normal  monotony." 
And  he  at  once  descended  the  stairs  to  carry  out  his 
purpose. 

The  children  were  just  coming  from  the  sitting- 
room  where  they  had  their  school,  exclaiming : 

"  Oh,  Auntie,  what  shall'we  do  this  awful  rainy 
day  ?" 

"  Wait  till  I  have  given  some  directions  to  Zibbie, 
and  I  will  read  you  a  fairy  story,  and  then  you  can 
go  up  into  the  wide  old  garret  until  dinner  time." 

"  May  I  listen  to  the  fairy  story  also  ?"  asked 
Walter. 

Miss  Walton  looked  up  with  a  smile  and  said, 
"  You  must  be  half  dead  from  your  imprisonment  to 
take  up  with  such  solace.  But  if  you  can  wait  till 
I  have  kept  my  word  to  the  children  I  will  read 
something  more  to  your  taste." 

"  I  think  I  would  like  to  hear  how  a  fairy  story 
sounds  once  again  after  all  these  years." 

"  As  Shakespeare  may  sound  to  us  some  time  in 
the  future,"  she  replied,  smiling. 
5 


98  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR 

"  I  can't  believe  we  shall  ever  outgrow  Shake- 
speare,"  he  said. 

"  I  can  believe  it,  but  cannot  understand  how  it 
is  possible.  As  yet  I  am  only  growing  up  into 
Shakespeare." 

"  You  seem  very  ready  to  believe  what  you  can 
not  understand." 

"  And  that  is  woman's  way,  I  suppose  you  would 
like  to  add/'  she  answered,  smiling  over  her  shoul 
der,  as  she  turned  to  the  kitchen  department.  "  You 
men  have*  a  general  faith  that  there  will  be  din 
ner  at  two  o'clock,  though  you  understand  very  little' 
how  it  comes  to  pass,  and  if  you  are  disappointed 
the  best  of  your  sex  have  not  fortitude  enough  to 
wait  patiently,  so  I  must  delay  no  longer  in  propit 
iating  the  kitchen  divinity." 

"  There  !"  he  said,  "  I  have  but  crossed  her  steps 
in  the  hall,  and  she  has  stirred  me  and  set  my  nerves 
tingling  like  an  October  breeze.  She  is  a  witch." 

After  a  few  minutes  Miss  Walton  entered.  Each 
of  the  children  called  for  a  story,  and  each  clamored 
for  their  favorite. 

"Johnnie,"  said  Miss  Walton,  "  it  is  manly  to 
yield  to  the  least  and  weakest,  especially  if  she  be  a 
little  lady." 

The  boy  thought  a  moment,  and  then  with  an 
amusing  assumption  of  dignity  said  :  "  You  may 
read  Susie's  story  first,  Auntie." 

"  Susie,  promise  Johnnie  that  his  story  shall 
be  read  first  next  time ;"  which  Susie  promptly 
did  with  a  touch  of  the  womanly  grace  with  which 


WITCHCRAFT. 


99 


favors  are  bestowed  after  the  feminine  will  has  tri 
umphed. 

"  Now,  little  miniature  man  and  woman,  listen  !  " 
and  their  round  eyes  were  ready  for  the  world  of 
wonders. 

And  this  sweet,  pure  child  of  nature  was  at  the 
same  time  showing  Gregory  a  world  as  new  and 
strange — a  world  that  as  a  boy  he  had  caught 
glimpses  of,  but  since  had  lost  hopelessly. '  She 
carried  the  children  away  into  fairyland.  She  sug 
gested  to  him  a  life  in  wh;ch  simplicity,  truth,  and 
genuine  goodness  might  bring  peace  and  hope  to 
the  heart. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  fairy  story  ?  " 
she  asked  after  she  had  finished  and  the  children  had 
drawn  sighs  of  intense  relief  at  the  happy  denoue 
ment  in  which  the  ugly  ogre  was  slain  and  the  prince 
and  princess  married. 

"  I  did  not  hear  it,"  he  said. 

"  That's  complimentary.  But  you  appeared  lis 
tening  very  closely." 

"  You  have  heard  of  people  reading  a  different 
meaning  between  the  lines,  and  I  suppose  one  can 
listen  to  a  different  meaning." 

"And  what  could  you  find  between  the  lines  of 
this  fairy  tale  ?  "  she  asked  with  interest. 

"  I  would  find  it  difficult  to  explain — something 
too  vague  and  indefinite  for  words,  I  fear.  But  if 
you  will  read  me  something  else  I  shall  listen  to  the 
text  itself." 

"  Come,  children,  scamper  off  to  the  garret,"  said 


IOO  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Annie,  "  and  remember  you  are  nearer  heaven  up 
there,  and  so  must  be  very  kind  and  gentle  to  each 
other/ ' 

"  You  fill  those  youngsters'  heads  with  beautiful 
superstitions." 

"  Superstition  and  faith  are  not  so  very  far  apart, 
though  so  unlike." 

"  Yes,  it  is  hard  to  tell  where  one  leaves  off  and 
the  other  begins." 

"  Is  it  ?  " 

"  Isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  contradict  you,  sir.'3 

"You  have  contradicted  me,  and  I  suppose  '  it  is 
manly  to  yield  to  a  lady.'  " 

"  Not  in  manners  of  principle  and  honest  convic 
tion." 

"  Alas  !  if  one  has  not  very  much  of  either." 

"  It  is  a  very  great  misfortune,  and,  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  add,  fault." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  a  misfortune,  Miss  Walton  ; 
but  you  are  not  reading." 

"  Well,  make  your  choice." 

"  I  leave  it  entirely  to  you." 

"  You  don't  look  very  well  to-day.  I  will  select 
something  light  and  cheerful  from  Dickens." 

"  Excuse  me  please.  I  am  in  no  mood  for  his 
deliberate  purpose  to  make  one  laugh. 

"  Then  here  is  Irving.  His  style  flows  like  a 
meadow  brook." 

"  No,  he  is  too  sentimental." 

"  Walter  Scott,  then,  will  form  a  happy  medium." 


WITCHCRAFT.  IOI 

"  No,  he  wearies  one  with  explanations  and  his 
tory.3* 

"  Some  of  Tennyson's  dainty  idyls  will  suit  your 
fastidious  taste." 

"  I  couldn't  abide  to-day  his  affected,  stilted 
language." 

"  Shakespeare,  then ;  you  regard  him  as  per 
fect." 

"  No,  he  makes  me  think,  and  I  do  not  wish  to." 

"  Well,  here  are  newspapers,  the  latest  magazine, 
and  some  new  novels." 

"  Modern  rubbish — a  mushroom  growth.  They 
will  soon  kindle  kitchen  fires  instead  of  thought." 

"  Then  I  must  make  an  expedition  to  the  library. 
What  shall  I  bring  ?  There  is  Mosheim's  '  Eccles 
iastical  Ancient  History;'  that  has  a  solid,  vener 
able  sound.  Or,  if  you  prefer  poetry,  I  will  get 
Grey's  *  Elegy.'  That  cannot  be  a  literary  mush 
room,  for  he  was  twenty  years  writing  it.  But  per 
haps  it  is  Tupper  you  would  like — that  would  suit 
your  mood  exactly.  Tupper's  '  Proverbial  Phil 
osophy.'  " 

"  You  are  growing  satirical,  Miss  Walton.  Why 
don't  you  assert  plainly  that  I  am  as  full  of  whims 
as  a " 

"  Woman,  would  you  like  to  say  ?  " 

"  Present  company  excepted.  The  fact  is,  I  am 
two-thirds  ill  to-day,  and  the  most  faultless  style  and 
theme  in  our  language  would  weary  me.  I  am  pos 
sessed  by  the  evil  spirits  of  ennui,  unrest,  and  disgust 
at  myself  and  all  the  world,  present  company  always 


IO2  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

excepted.     Do  you  know  of  any  spells  that  can  ex 
orcise  these  demons  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  very  simple  one.     Will  you  put  your 
self  absolutely  in  my  power  and  obey  ?  " 

"  I  am  your  slave." 

Miss  Walton  left  the  room  and  soon  returned 
with  a  large  Afghan.  "  You  must  take  a  horizontal 
position  in  order  that  my  spell  may  work." 

"  Pshaw !  you  are  prescribing  an  ordinary  nap." 

"  I  am  glad  to  say  the  best  things  in  this  world 
are  ordinary  and  common.  But  permit  me  to  sug 
gest  that  in  view  of  your  pledged  word  you  have- 
nothing  to  do  in  this  matter  but  to  obey." 

"  Very  well ;  "  and  he  threw  himself  on  the  sofa. 

"  The  day  is  chilly,  sir,  and  I  must  throw  this 
Afghan  over  you  ;  "  and  she  did  so  with  a  little  touch 
of  delicacy  which  is  so  grateful  when  one  is  indis 
posed. 

Her  manner  both  soothed  and  pleased,  and  he 
noticed  as  she  bent  over  him  that  her  eyes  were 
honestly  kind.  He  was  more  lonely  than  he  rea 
lized,  for  it  had  been  years  since  he  had  experi 
enced  woman's  gentle  care  and  ministry  ;  and  An 
nie  Walton  had  a  power  possessed  by  few  to  put 
jangling  nerves  at  rest.  Suddenly  he  said  ; 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  sister  like  you." 

"  My  creed,  you  know,"  she  replied,  "  makes  all 
mankind  kindred." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  .Walter,  irritably  ;  "  deliver 
me  from  your  church  sisters." 

"  Take  care  !  "  she  answered  with  a  warning  nod. 


WITCHCRAFT.  103 

*  I'm  a  church  sister ;  so  don't  drive  me  away,  for  1 
am  going  to  sing  you  to  sleep." 

I'm  half  inclined  to  join  y^ur  church  that  I  may 
call  you  sister." 

"  You  would  be  disciplined  and  excommunicated 
within  a  month.  But  hush  ;  you  must  not  talk." 

"  How  would  you  treat  me  after  I  had  been  an 
athematized?  " 

"  If  you  were  as  ill  as  you  are  to  day  I  would 
make  you  sleep.  Hush  ;  not  another  word.  I  am 
going  to  sing." 

A  luxurious  sense  of  comfort  stole  over  him,  and 
he  composed  himself  to  listen  and  criticise,  little  im 
agining,  though,  that  he  would  fall  asleep.  He  saw 
through  the  window  a  lowering  sky  with  leaden 
clouds  driven  wildly  across  it.  The  wind  moaned 
and  soughed  around  the  angles  of  the  house,  and 
the  rain  beat  against  the  glass.  All  without  seemed 
emblematic  of  himself.  But  now'he  had  a  brief  but 
blessed  sense  of  shelter  both  from  the  storm  and 
himself.  The  fire  blazed  cheerily  on  the  hearth. 
The  Afghan  seeraed  to  envelop  him  like  a  genial  at 
mosphere.  Had  Miss  Walton  bewitched  it  by  her 
touch?  And  now  she  has  found  something  to  suit 
her,  or  rather  him,  and  is  singing. 

"  What  an  unusual  voice  she  hast"  he  thought. 
"  Truly  the  spirit  of  David's  harp,  that  could  banish 
the  demon  from  Saul,  dwells  in  it.  I  wonder  if  she 
is  as  good  and  real  as  she  seems,  or  whether,  under 
the  stress  of  temptation  or  the  poison  of  flattery, 
she  would  not  show  herself  a  true  daughter  of  Eve  ? 


104  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

I  must  find  out,  for  it  is  about  the  only  remaining 
question  that  interests  me.  If  she  is  like  the  rest  of 
us — if  she  is  a  female  Jiunting — then  good-by  to  all 
hope.  I  shall  not  live  to  find  anybody  or  anything 
to  trust.  If  she  is  what  she  seems  it's  barely  possi 
ble,  that  she  might  help  me  out  of  this  horrible 
'slough  of  despond/  if  she  would  take  the  trouble. 
I  wish  that  she  were  my  sister,  or  that  my  sister 
had  lived  and  been  just  like  her." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Miss  WALTON  ADVISES  A  HOBBY. 

nPO  Walter's  surprise  he  woke  up  and  then  admit- 
ted  to  himself  that,  contrary  to  his  expectation 
and  purpose,  he  had  been  asleep.  His  last  remem 
bered  consciousness  was  that  of  sweet,  low  music  ; 
and  how  long  ago  was  that  ?  He  looked  at  his 
watch  ;  it  was  nearly  two,  and  he  must  have  slept 
two  hours.  He  glanced  around  and  saw  that  he  was 
alone,  but  the  fire  still  blazed  on  the  hearth,  and  the 
Afghan  enfolded  him  with  its  genial  warmth  as  be 
fore,  and  it  seemed  that  though  by  himself  he  was 
still  cared  for. 

"  She  is  a  witch,"  he  muttered.  "  Her  spells  are 
no  jokes.  But  I  will  investigate  her  case  like  an 
old-time  Salem  inquisitor.  With  more  than  Yankee 
curiosity,  which  was  at  the  bottom  of  their  super 
stitious  questionings,  I  will  pry  into  her  power.  But 
she  will  find  that  she  has  a  wary  skeptic  to  convince. 
I  have  seen  too  many  saints  and  sinners  to  be  again 
deceived  by  fair  seeming." 

A  broad  ray  of  sunlight  shot  across  the  room. 

"  By  my  soul !    it's  clearing   off.     Is  this  her  work 

also  ?     Has   she   swept   away   the   clouds  with  her 

broomstick  ?    And  there  goes  the  dinner-bell,  too  ;  '* 

5* 


106  OPENING    A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  he  went  to  his  room  two  steps  at  a  time,  as  he 
did  when  a  boy. 

Annie  coming  out  of  the  sitting-room  at  that 
moment,  smiled  and  said  :  "  He  must  be  better." 

At  the  table  she  asked :  "  How  do  you  find 
yourself  now?" 

"  Much  given  to  appetite."  Then  turning  to 
Mr.  Walton,  he  said,  abruptly :  "  Do  you  believe  in 
witchcraft  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  sir,"  said  good  Mr.  Walton,  a  little 
taken  aback. 

"  I  do  !"  continued  he,  emphatically. 

"  When  and  where  have  you  had  experience  in 
the  black  art  ?" 

"  This  morning,  and  in  your  house,  sir." 

"  You  seem  none  the  worse  for  it,"  said  his  host, 
smiling. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not  felt  so  well  in  months. 
Your  larder  will  suffer  if  I  am  practised  upon  any 
more." 

"Well,  of  all  modern  and  prosaic  results  of 
witchery  this  exceeds,"  said  Annie,  laughing,  "  since 
only  a  good  appetite  results." 

"  It  yet  remains  to  be  seen  whether  this  is  the 
only  result,"  replied  Walter.  "  What  possessed  the 
old  Puritans  to  persecute  the  Salem,  witches  is  a 
mystery  to  me,  if  their  experience  was  any  thing 
like  mine." 

"  You  must  remember  that  the  question  of  what 
was  agreeable  or  otherwise  scarcely  entered  into  a 
Puritan's  motives." 


MISS    WALTON  ADVISES  A    HOBBY. 


TO/ 


"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  answered  Walter  quick 
ly.  "  It  has  ever  seemed  to  me  that  the  good  people 
of  other  days  went  into  persecution  with  a  zeal  that 
abstract  right  can  hardly  account  for.  People  will 
have  their  excitements,  and  a  good  rousing  persecu 
tion  used  to  stir  things  like  the  burning  of  Chicago 
or  a  Presidential  election  in  our  day." 

"  Granting,"  said  Annie,  "the  bigotry  and  cruelty 
of  the  persecutor — and  these  must  be  mainly  charged 
to  the  age — still  you  must  admit  that  among  them 
were  earnest  men  who  did  what  appears  very  wrong 
to  us  from  good  motives.  What  seemed  to  them 
evil  and  destructive  principles  were  embodied  in  men 
and  women,  and  they'  meant  to  destroy  the  evil 
through  the  suffering  and  death  of  these  poor  crea 
tures." 

"  And  then  consider  the  simplicity  and  ease  of 
the  persecutor's  method,"  continued  Walter,  mock 
ingly.  "  A  man's  head  has  become  full  of  supposed 
doctrinal  errors.  To  refute  and  banish  these  would 
require  much  study  and  argument  on  the  part  of  the 
opponent.  It  was  so  much  easier  to  take  an  obstin- 
.  ate  heretic's  head  off  than  to  argue  with  him.  I 
think  it  was  the  simplicity  of  the  persecutor's  method 
that  kept  it  in  favor  so  long.'' 

"  But  it  never  convinced  any  one,"  said  Annie, 
"and  the  man  killed  merely  goes  into  another  world 
of  the  same  opinion  still." 

"  And  there  probably  learns,  poor  fellow,  that 
both  were  wrong,  and  that  he  had  better  have  been 


108  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

content  with  good  dinners  and  a  quiet  life,  and  let 
theology  alone.". 

"  The  world  would  move  but  slowly,  if  all  men 
were  content  with  '  good  dinners  and  a  quiet  life/  ' 
said  Annie,  satirically.  "  But  you  have  not  answer 
ed  my  question.  Could  riot  good,  earnest  men 
have  been  very  cruel,  believing  that  everything  de 
pended  on  their  uprooting  some  evil  of  their  day  ?  " 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Walter, 
a  little  nettled,  "  I  have  no  sympathy  with  that 
style  of  men.  To  me  they  are  very  repulsive  and 
ridiculous.  They  remind  me  of  the  breathless,  per 
spiring  politicians  of  our  time,  who  button-hole 
you  and  assert  that  the  world  will  come  to  an  end 
unless  John  Smith  is  elected.  To  me,  the  desperate 
earnestness  of  people  who  imagine  it  their  mission 
to  set  the  world  right  is  excessively  tiresome.  For 
one  man  or  a  thousand  to  proclaim  that  they  speak 
for  God  and  embody  truth,  and  that  the  race  should 
listen  and  obey,  is  the  absurdity  of  arrogance." 

"  If  we  were  to  agree  with  you,  would  we  not 
have  to  say  that  the  prophets  should  have  kept  their 
visions  to  themselves,  and  that  Luther  should  have 
remained  in  his  cell,  and  Columbus  have  coasted 
along  shore  and  not  have  insisted  on  what  was  to  all 
the  world  an  absurdity  ?  " 

"  Come,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Walter,  with  a 
vexed  laugh  as  they  rose  from  the  table,  "  you  are  a 
witch.  I  am  willing  to  argue  with  flesh  and  blood, 
but  I  would  rather  hear  you  sing.  Still,  since  you 
have  swept  away  these  clouds  so  I  can  have  my  ram- 


MISS    WALTON  ADVISES  A   HOBBY. 

ble,  I  will  forgive  you  for  unhorsing  me  in  our  recent 
tilt." 

"  If  you  would  mount  some  good  honest  hobby 
and  ride  it  hard,  I  doubt  whether  any  one  could 
unhorse  you,"  she  replied  in  a  low  tone,  as  she  ac 
companied  him  to  the  parlor." 

"  Men  with  hobbies  are  my  detestation,  Miss 
Walton." 

"  Nevertheless,  they  are  the  true  knights  errant 
of  our  age.  Of  course  it  depends  upon  what  kind 
of  hobbies  they  ride,  or  whether  they  can  manage 
their  steeds." 

"  Miss  Walton,  your  figure  suggests  a  half  idiot, 
with  narrow  forehead  and  one  idea,  banging  back 
and  forth  on  a  wooden  horse,  but  making  no  pro 
gress — in  other  words,  a  fussy,  bustling  man  who 
can  do  and  talk  but  one  thing." 

"Your  understanding  of  the  popular  phrase  is 
narrow  and  literal,  and  while  it  may  have  such  a 
meaning,  can  also  have  a  very  different  one.  Sup 
pose,  instead  of  looking  with  languid  eyes  alike  upon 
all  things,  a  man  finds  some  question  of  vital  import 
or  pursuit  that  promises  good  to  himself  and  many 
others  and  that  enlists  his  interest.  He  comes  at 
last  to  give  it  his  best  energies  and  thought.  The 
whole  current  of  his  life  is  setting  in  that  direction. 
Of  course  he  must  ever  be  under  the  restraints  of 
good  sense  and  refinement.  A  man's  life  without  a 
hobby  is  a  weak  and  wavering  line  of  battle  indefin 
itely  long.  One's  life  with  a  hobby  is  a  concentra 
ted  charge." 


HO  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

There  was  in  Miss  Walton's  face  and  manner,  as 
she  uttered  these  words,  that  which  caused  Walter 
to  regard  her  with  involuntary  admiration.  Sudden 
ly  he  asked : 

"  Have  you  a  hobby  ?  " 

Her  manner  changed  instantly,  and  with  an  arch 
look  said  :  "  If  you  detest  a  man  with  a  hobby,  what 
a  monster  a  woman  would  be  in  your  eyes." 

"  I  have  admitted  that  you  are  a  witch." 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  monster  already,  and  so  have  no 
character  to  lose.  But  where  is  your  penetration  ? 
If  a  man  with  a  hobby  is  idiotic,  narrow  browed, 
fussy  and  bustling,  excessively  obtrusive  with  his 
one  idea,  a  woman  must  be  like  him  with  all  these 
things  exaggerated.  Has  it  not  occurred  to  you  that 
I  have  a  hobby  of  the  most  wooden  and  clumsy 
order?" 

"  But  that  was  my  idea  of  a  hobby.  You  have 
spiritualized  my  wooden  block  into  a  Pegasus — the 
symbol  of  inspiration.  Have  you  such  a  hobby?  " 

"  I  have." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  She  went  out  of  the  room  saying  smilingly  over 
her  shoulder: 

"  You  must  find  that  out  for  yourself." 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  PLOT  AGAINST  Miss  WALTON. 

A.LTER  was  soon  off  for  his  ramble.  The 
storm  had  cleared  away  so  warmly  and  genially 
as  to  suggest  spring  rather  than  fall  j-  but  he  was 
quite  oblivious  of  the  outer  world,  and  familiar 
scenes  had  not  the  power  to  awaken  either  pleasant 
or  painful  associations.  He  was  trying  to  account 
for  the  influence  that  Annie  Walton  had  suddenly 
gained  over  him,  but  it  was  beyond  his  philosophy. 
This  provoked  him.  His  cool,  worldly  nature  ques 
tioned  everything  and  especially  everybody.  He 
believed  in  the  inherent  weakness  of  humanity,  and 
that  if  people  were  exceptionally  good  it  was  because 
they  had  been  exceptionally  fortunate  in  escaping- 
temptation.  He  also  had  a  cynical  pleasure  in  see 
ing  such  people  tripping  and  stumbling,  so  that  he 
might  say  in  self-excusing  : 

"  We  are  all  alike." 

And  yet  he  was  compiled  to  admit  that  if  Annie's 
goodness  was  seeming  it  was  more  perfect  art  than 
he  had  known  before.  There  was  also  an  uncon 
scious  assertion  of  superiority  in  her  manner  that  he 
did  not  like.  True,  things  had  turned  out  far  better 
than  he  had  expected.  There  was  no  cant  about 


112  OPENING  A    CHLSTNUT  BURR. 

her.  She  did  not  lecture  him  or  "  talk  religion  "  in 
what  he  regarded  as  the  stereotyped  way,  and  he 
was  sure  she  would  not,  even  if  they  became  better 
acquainted.  But  there  is  that  in  genuine  goodness 
and  nobility  of  character  that  always  humiliates  the 
bad  and  makes  them  feel  their  degradation.  A  real 
pity  and  sympathy  for  him  tinged  her  manner,  but 
these  qualities  are  not  agreeable  to  pride.  And  it 
must  be  admitted  that  she  had  a  little  self-righteous 
satisfaction  that  she  was  so  much  better  than  this 
sadly  robbed  and  wounded  man  suddenly  appearing 
at  the  wayside  of  her  life.  In  human  strength  there 
is  generally  a  trace  of  arrogance.  Only  Divine 
strength  and  purity  can  say  with  perfect  love  and 
full  allowance  for  all  weakness  and  adverse  influ 
ences — 

"  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee.  Go,  and  sin  no 
more." 

Walter  had  now  reached  a  rustic  bridge  across  a 
little  stream  that,  swollen  from  the  recent  rain,  came 
gurgling  and  clamoring  down  from  the  hills.  Lean 
ing  upon  the  rail  he  seemed  to  watch  the  foaming 
water  glide  under  his  feet.  But  the  outward  vision 
made  no  impression  on  his  mind. 

At  last  in  the  consciousness  of  solitude  he  said : 
"  She  told  me  I  must  find  her  out.  I  will.  I  will 
know  whether  she  is  as  free  from  human  frailty  as 
she  seems.  I  have  little  doubt  that  before  many 
days  I  can  cause  her  to  show  all  the  inherent  weak 
nesses  of  her  sex  ;  and  I  should  think  New  York  and 
Paris  had  taught  me  what  they  are.  She  has  never 


A   PLOT  AGAINST  MISS    WALTON. 

been  tempted.  She  has  never  been  subjected  to  the 
delicate  flattery  of  an  accomplished  man  of  the  world. 
I  am  no  gross  libertine.  I  could  not  be  in  this  place. 
I  could  not  so  wrong  hospitality  and  the  household 
of  my  father's  friend.  But  I  would  like  to  prove  to 
that  girl  her  delusion,  and  show  her  that  she  is  a 
weak  woman  like  the  rest ;  that  she  is  a  pretty 
painted  ship  that  has  never  been  in  a  storm, 
and  therefore  need  not  sail  so  confidently.  We  all 
start  on  the  voyage  of  life  as  little  skiffs  and  pleasure- 
boats  might  cross  the  ocean.  If  any  get  safely  over, 
it  is  because  they  were  lucky  enough  not  to  meet 
dangerous  currents  or  rough  weather.  I  would  like 
her  better  with  her  piquant  ways  if  she  were  more 
like  myself.  Saints  and  Madonnas  are  well  enough 
in  pictures,  but  such  as  I  would  find  them  very 
uncomfortable  society  " 

With  sudden  power  the  thought  flashed  upon  him. 
"  Why  not  let  her  make  you  as  she  is  ?  "  Where  did 
the  thought  come  from  ?  Tell  me  not  that  the  Divine 
Father  forgets  his  children.  He  is  speaking  to 
them  continually,  .only  they  will  not  hear.  There 
was  a  brief  passionate  wish  on  the  part  of  this  bad 
man  that  she  might  be  what  she  seemed  and  that  he 
could  become  like  her.  As  the  turbulent,  muddy 
Jordan  divided  that  God's  people  might  pass  through, 
so  this  thought  from  Heaven  found  passage  through 
his  heart  and  then  the  current  of  sinful  impulse  and 
habit  flowed  on  as  before.  With  the  stupidity  of 
evil  he  was  breaking  the  clue  that  God  had  dropped 
in  his  hand  even  when  desperately  weary  of  his  lost 


114 


OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 


state.  He  is  wrecked  and  helpless  on  the  wide 
ocean.  A  ship  is  coming  to  his  rescue,  and  his  first 
effort  is  that  this  vessel  may  be%  also  wrecked  or 
greatly  injured  in  the  attempt. 

There  is  no  insanity  like  that  of  a  perverted 
heart.  The  adversary  of  souls  has  so  many  human 
victims  doing  his  work  that  he  can  fold  his  hands 
in  idleness.  And  yet  according  to  the  world's  prac 
tice,  and  we  might  almost  say  its  code,  Gregory 
purposed  nothing  that  would  be  severely  condemned 
— nothing  more  than  an  ordinary  flirtation,  such  as 
are  as  common  in  society  as  idleness,  love  of  excite 
ment,  and  that  power  over  others  which  ministers  to 
vanity.  He  had  no  wish  to  be  able  to  say  anything 
worse  of  her  than  that  under  temptation  she  would 
be  as  vain  and  heartless  a  coquette  as  many  others 
that  he  knew  in  what  is  regarded  as  good  society. 
He  would  have  cut  off  his  right  hand,  as  he  then 
felt,  rather  than  have  sought  to  lead  her  into  gross 
sin.  ^ 

And  yet  what  did  Gregory  purpose  in  regard  to 
Annie  but  to  take  the  heavenly  bloom  and  beauty 
from  her  character  ?  As  if  a  person  can  be  lovely 
to  either  God  or  man  of  whom  it  can  be  said  only, 
They  commit  no  overt -crime.  What  is  the  form  of 
a  rose  without  its  beauty  and  fragrance  ?  They  who 
tempt  to  evil  are  the  real  iconoclasts.  They  -destroy 
God's  image. 

But  the  supreme  question  of  the  selfish  heart  is, 
"  What  do  I  want  now  ?  " 

Walter  wished  to  satisfy  himself  and  Miss  Wai- 


A  PLO  T  A  GAINST  MISS  WAL  TON.  i  r  5 

ton  that  she  had  no  grounds  for  claiming  any  special 
superiority  over  him,  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
went  back  home  to  carry  out  his  purpose.  Nature, 
purified  and  beautiful  by  reason  of  its  recent  bap 
tism  from  heaven,  had  no  attractions.  Gems  of 
moisture  sparkled  unseen.  He  was  planning  and 
scheming  how  he  might  "  turn  her  head  with  vanity, 
make  her  quiet  life  of  ministry  to  others  odious,  and 
draw  her  into  a  fashionable  flirtation." 

Annie  did  not  appear  until  the  supper-bell  sum 
moned  her,  and  then  said :' 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  hope  you  will  not  think  it  rude 
if  father  and  I  leave  you  to  your  books  and  Aunt 
'  Eulie's  care  this  evening.  It  is  our  church  prayer- 
meeting  night,  and  father  never  likes  to  be  absent/' 

"  I  shall  miss  you  beyond  measure.  The  eve 
ning  will  seem  an  age." 

Something  in  his  tone  caused  her  to  give  him  a 
quick  glance,  but  she  only  said,  with 'a  smile  : 

"  You  are  very  polite  to  say  so,  but  I  imagine 
the  last  magazine  will  be  a  good  substitute." 

"  I  doubt  whether  there  is  a  substitute  for  you, 
Miss  Walton.  I  am  coming  to  believe  that  your 
absence  would  make  that  vacuum  which  nature  so 
dreads.  You  shall  see  how  good  I  will  be  this  eve 
ning,  and  you  shall  read  me  everything  you  please, 
even  to  that  '  Ancient  Ecclesiastical  History.'  If 
you  will  only  stay  I  will  be  -your  slave ;  and  you 
shall  rule  me  with  a  rod  of  iron  or  draw  me  with 
the  silken  cords  of  kindness,  according  to  your 
moods." 


Il6  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  It  is  not  well  to  have  too  many  moods,  Mr. 
Gregory,"  said  Annie  quietly.  "  In  reply  to  all  your 
alluring  reasons  for  staying  home  I  have  only  to  say 
that  I  have  promised  father  to  go  with  him  ;  besides, 
I  think  it  is  my  duty  to  go." 

"  l  Duty'  is  a  harsh,  troublesome  word  to '  be 
always  quoting.  It  is  a  kind  of  strait-jacket  which 
we  poor  moral  lunatics  are  compelled  to  wear," 

"  '  Duty*  seems  to  me  a  good  solid  road  on  which 
one  may  travel  safely.  One  never  knows  where  the 
side  paths  lead  :  into  the-  brambles  or  a  morass  like 
enough." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  such  austerity  is  not  be 
coming  to  your  youth  and  beauty." 

"  What  am  I  to  think  of  your  sincerity  when  you 
speak  of  my  beauty,  Mr.  Gregory  ?  " 

"  Beauty  is  a  question  of  taste,"  answered  Walter 
gallantly.  "  It  is  settled  by  no  rigid  rules  or  princi 
ple,  but  by  the  eyes  of  the  observer." 

"  Oh  !  I  understand  now.  My  beauty  this  even 
ing  is  the  result  of  .your  bad  taste." 

"  Calling  it  '  bad'  does  not  make  it  so.  Well, 
since  you  will  not  stay  home  with  me  will  you  not 
let  me  go  with  you  to  the  prayer-meeting  ?  If  I'm 
ever  to  join  your  church,  it  is  time  I  entered  on  the 
initiating  mysteries." 

"  I  think  a  book  will  do  you  more  good  in  your 
present  mood." 

"  What  a  low  estimate  you  make  of  the  '  means 
of  grace.'  Why,  '  certain  of  your  own  poets  have 
said—' 

"  '  And  fools  who  came  to  scoff  remained  to  pray.' 


A  PLOT  A  GAINS  T  MISS  WAL  TON. 

"The  quotation  does  not  apply  to  you,  Mr. 
Gregory.  For  even  if  you  can  doubt  the  power  and 
truth  of  Christianity  your  childhood  will  prevent  you 
from  scoffing  at  it," 

A  sudden  shadow  came  across  his  face,  but  after 
a  moment  he  said  in  his  old  tones  : 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  go  to  the  prayer-meeting?  ' 

"  Father  will  be  glad  to  have  you  go  with  us,  if 
you  think  it  prudent  to  venture  out  in  the  night  air." 

"  Prudence  to  the  dogs  !  What  is  the  use  of  liv 
ing  if  we  cannot  do  as  we  please.  But  will  you  be 
glad  to  have  me  go  ? '' 

"  That  depends  upon  your  motives  and  the  uses 
you  make  of  the  sacred  hour." 

"  If  I  should  confess  you  wouldn't  let  me  go,"  he 
replied  with  a  bow.  "  But  I  will  try  to  be  as  good  as 
possible,  just  to  reward  your  kindness." 

The  rest  of-  the  family  now  joined  them  in  the 
supper-room,  and  during  the  meal  Walter  exerted 
himself  to  show  how  entertaining  he  could  be  if 
he  chose.  Anecdotes,  incidents  of  travel,  graphic 
sketches  of  society,  and  sallies  of  wit,  made  an  hour 
pass  before  any  one  was  aware. 

Even  the  children  listened  with  wondering  eyes, 
and  Mr.  Walton  and  Miss  Eulie  were  delighted  with 
the  vivacity  of  their  guest.  Annie  seemingly  had 
no  reason  to  complain  of  "him,  for  his  whole  man 
ner  toward  her  during  the  hour  was  that  of  delicately 
sustained  compliment.  '  When  she  spoke  he  listened 
with  deference,  and  her  words  usually  had  point  and 
meaning.  He  also  gave  to  her  remarks  the  best  and 


Il8  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

most  brilliant  meanings  of  which  they  were  capable, 
and  by  skilfully  drawing  her  out  made  her  surpass 
even  herself,  so  that  Miss  Eulie  said  : 

"  Why,  Annie,  there  surely  is  some  witchcraft 
about.  You  and  Mr.  Gregory  are  as  brilliant  as  fire 
works." 

"  It  is  all  Miss  Walton's  work,  I  assure  you," 
said  Walter.  "  As  Pat  declared,  <  I'm  not  meself 
any  more/  and  shall  surprise  you,  sir,  by  asking  if 
I  may  go  to  the  prayer-meeting  ?  Miss  Walton  says 
I  can  if  I  will  behave  myself.  The  last  time  I  went 
to  the  old  place  I  made  faces  at  the  girls.  I  suppose 
that  would  be  wrong." 

"  That  is  the  sin  of  our  age — making  faces,"  said 
Annie.  "  Many  have  two,  and  some  can  make  for 
themselves  even  more." 

"  Now  that  was  a  barbed  arrow,"  said  Walter, 
looking  at  her  keenly.  "  Did  you  let  it  fly  at  a  ven 
ture  ?  " 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Mr.  Walton  rising  hastily, 
"  We  should  have  been  on  the  road  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ago.  You  mustn't  be  so  entertaining  another 
prayer-meeting  night,  Mr.  Gregory.  Of  course  we 
shall  be  glad  to  have  you  accompany  us  if  you  feel 
well  enough.  I  give  you  both  but  five  minutes 
before  joining  me  at  the  wagon." 

Walter  again  mounted  the  stairs  with  something 
of  his  old  boyish  bouyancy,  and  Annie  followed, 
looking  curiously  after  him, 

It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  be  indifferent  to 
that  most  skilful  flattery  which  can  be  .addressed  to 


A  PLOT  A  GAINST  MISS  WAL  TON. 

woman — the  recognition  of  her  cleverness,  and  the 
enhancing  of  it  by  adroit  and  suggestive  questions- - 
and  yet  all  his  manner  was  tinged  by  a  certain  insin, 
cere  gallantry  rather  than  a  manly,  honest  respect. 
She  vaguely  felt  this,  though  she  could  not  dis 
tinctly  point  it  out.  He  puzzled  her.  What  did  he 
mean,  and  what  was  he  aiming  at  ? 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  DRINKING  SONG  AT  A  PRAYER-MEETING. 

TLTAVING  failed  in  inducing  Annie  to  stay  at 
home,  Walter  purposed  that  the  prayer-meet 
ing  should  not  be  one  of  quiet  devotion.  Mr.  Wal 
ton  made  him,  as  an  invalid,  take  the  back  seat  with 
Annie  while  he  sat  with  the  driver,  and  Walter,  after 
faint  show  of  resistance,  gladly  complied. 

"  It's  chilly.  Won't  you  give  me  half  of  your 
shawl  ?  "  he  said  to  her. 

"  You  may  have  it  all,"  said  Annie,  about  to  take 
it  off. 

"  No,  I'll  freeze  first.  Do  the  brethren  and  sis 
ters  sit  together? " 

•  "  No,"  she  replied,  laughing,  "  we  have  got  in  the 
queer  way  of  dividing  the  room  between  us,  and  the 
few  men  who  attend  sit  on  one  side  and  we  on  the 
other." 

"  Oh,  it's  almost  a  female  prayer-meeting  then. 
Do  the  sisters  pray?" 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  not  a  stranger  here  sthat 
you  need  pretend  to  such  ignorance.  I  think  the 
meeting  is  conducted  very  much  as  when  you  were 
a  boy." 

"  With  this  most  interesting  difference,  that  you 


A  DRINKING  SONG  AT  PR  A  YER-MEETING.      121 

will  be  there  and  will  sirig,  I  hope.  Miss  Walton 
where  did  you  learn  to  sing  ?  " 

4<  Mainly  at  home,  sir." 

"  I  should  think  so.  Your  voice  is  as  unlike  that 
of  a  public  singer  as  you  are  unlike  the  singer  her 
self." 

"  It  must  seem  very  tame  to  you.'' 

"  It  seems  very  different.  We  have  an  artificial 
flower  department  in  our  store.  There  is  no  lack  of 
color  and  form  there  I  assure  you,  but  after  all  I 
would  prefer  your  rose  garden  in  June." 

"  But  you  would  probably  prefer  your  artificial 
flower  department  the  rest  of  the  year,"  said  Annie, 
laughing. 

"Why  so?" 

"  Our  roses  are  annuals  and  are  only  prosaic  briars 
after  their  bloom." 

"  Imagine  them  hybrid  perpetuals  and  monthlies 
and  you  have  my  me'aning.  But  your  resemblance 
to  a  rose  extends  even  to  its  thorns.  Your  words 
are  a  little  sharp  sometimes." 

"  In  the  thorns  the  resemblance  begins  and  ends, 
Mr.  Gregory.  I  assure  you  I  am  a  veritable  Scotch 
Briar.  But  here  we  are  at  our  destination.  I  won 
der  if  you  will  see  many  old,  remembered  faces?" 

"  I  shall  be  content  in  seeing  yours,"  he  replied 
in  a  low  tone,  pressing  her  hand  as  he  assisted  her 
to  alight. 

If  he  could  have  seen  the  expression  of  her  face 
in  the  darkness  it  would  have  satisfied  him  that  she 
did  not  receive  that  style  of  compliment  like  many 
6 


122  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  the  belles  of  his  acquaintance  who  will  take  the 
small  change  of  flattery  with  the  smiling  complacency 
of  a  public  door-keeper 

They  were  late.  The  good  old  pastor  was  absent, 
and  one  of  the  brethren  was  reading  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible.  Walter  took  a  seat  where  he  could  see  Annie 
plainly,  and  she  sat  with  her  side  face  toward  him. 

He  watched  her  keenly,  in  order  to  see  if  she 
showed  any  consciousness  of  his  presence.  The 
only  evidence  in  his  favor  was  a  slight  flush  and  a 
firmness  about  the  lips,  as  if  her  will  was  asserting 
itself.  But  soon  her  face  had  the  peaceful  and 
serious  expression  becoming  the  place  and  hour,  and 
he  saw  that  she  had  no  thoughts  for  him  whatever. 
He  was  determined  to  distract  her  attention,  and  by 
restlessness,  by  looking  fixedly  at  her,  sought  her 
eye,  but  only  secured  the  notice  of  some  young  girls 
who  thought  him  "  badly  smitten  with  Miss  Walton." 

The  long  chapter  having  been  read  a  hymn  was 
given  out.  The  gentleman  who  usually  led  the 
music  was  also  absent,  and  there  was  an  ominous 
pause,  in  which  the  good  brother's  eye  wandered 
appealingly  around  the  room  and  at  last  rested 
hopefully  on  Annie.  She  did  not  fail  him,  but,  with 
heightened  color  and  voice  that  trembled  slightly  at 
first,  "  started  the  tune."  It  was  a  sweet,  familiar 
air,  and  she  soon  had  the  support  of  other  voices. 
One  after  another  they  joined  her  in  widely  varying 
degrees  of  melody,  even  as  the  example  of  a  noble 
life  will  gradually  secure  a  number  of  more  or  less 
perfect  imitators. 


A  DRINKING  SONG  AT  PR  A  YER-MEETING. 


123 


Walter  had  seen  the  appeal  to  her  with  an 
amused,  half-comical  look,  but  her  sincere  and  ready 
performance  of  the  duty  that  had  unexpectedly  re 
vealed  itself  rapidly  changed  the  expreesion  of  his 
face  to  one  of  respect  and  admiration.  Distinct,  and 
yet  blending  with  the  others,  her  voice  seemed  both 
to  key  up  and  hide  the  little  roughnesses  and  dis 
cords  of  some  who  perhaps  had  more  melody  in  their 
hearts  than  tones. 

Again  a  divine  impulse,  like  a  flower-laden  breeze 
sweeping  into  a  dark  and  grated  vault  at  Greenwood, 
stirred  Gregory's  evil  nature. 

Let  her  teach  you  the  harmony  of  noble,  unself 
ish  living.  Follow  her  in  thought,  feeling,  and  ac 
tion,  as  those  stammering,  untuned  tongues  do  in 
melody,  and  the  blight  of  evil  will  pass  from  your 
life.  Seek  not  to  muddy  and  poison  this  clear  little 
rill  that  is  watering  a  bit  of  God's  world.  Grant 
that  her  goodness  is  not  real,  established,  and  thor 
oughly  tested — that  it  is  only  a  pretty  surface  pic 
ture.  Seek  not  to  blur  that  picture. 

But  the  evil  heart  is  like  Sodom.  Good  angel- 
thoughts  may  come  to  it,  but  they  are  treated  with 
violence  and  driven  out.  His  habit  of  cynical 
doubt  soon  returned,  and  his  purpose  to  show  Miss 
Walton  that  she  was  a  weak,  vain  woman  after  all 
became  stronger  than  ever.  ^ 

It  had  seemingly  come  to  this,  that  his  salvation 
depended  on,  not  what  Miss  Walton  could  say  or  do 
directly  in  his  behalf,  but  upon  her  maintenance  of 
a.  character  that  compels  even  a  sceptical  world  to 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

acknowledge  as  inspired  by  Heaven,  and  this,  too, 
against  a  tempter  of  unusual  skill  and  tact.  She 
might  sing  with  resistless  pathos,  and  argue  and 
plead  with  Paul's  logic  and  eloquence.  His  nature 
might  be  stirred  for  a  moment  as  a  stagnant  pool  is 
agitated  by  the  winds  of  heaven,  and  like  the  pool, 
he  would  soon  settle  back  into  his  old  apathy.  But 
if  she  could  be  made  to  show  weakness,  to  stumble 
and  fall,  it  would  confirm  him  in  his  belief  that  good 
ness,  if  it  really  existed,  was  accidental :  that  those 
who  lived  lives  apparently  free  from  stain  deserved 
no  credit,  because  untempted  ;  and  that  those  who 
fell  should  be  pitied  rather  than  blamed,  since  they 
were  unfortunate  rather  than  guilty.  Anything  that 
would  quiet  and  satisfy  his  conscience  in  its  stern 
arraignment  of  his  evil  life  would  be  welcome.  The 
more  he  saw  of  $Eiss  Walton  the  more  he  felt  that 
she  would  be  a  fair  subject  upon  whom  to  test  his 
favorite  theory.  Therefore,  by  the  time  that  one  of 
the  brethern  present  had  finished  his  homely  exhor 
tation  he  was  wholly  bent  upon  carrying  out  his 
plan. 

But  Miss  Walton  sat  near  as  innocently  oblivious 
of  this  plot  against  her  as  Eve  of  the  serpent's  guile 
before  the  tempter  and  temptation  came  into  fatal 
conjunction. 

What  thoughts  for  and  against  each  other  may 
,  *vell  utterly  hidden  and  unknown  in  the  hearts  of 
those  so  near  that  their  hands  may  touch !  Conspir- 
acies  to  compass  the  death  that  is  remediless  may 
iurk  just  back  of  eyes  that  smile  upon  us.  Of  course 


A  DRINKING  SONG  A  T  PR  A  YER-MEETING.      125 

Walter  desired  no  such  fatal  result  to  follow  his  little 
experiment.  Few  who  for  their  own  pleasure,  profit 
or  caprice  tempt  others  wish  the  evil  to  work  on  to 
the  bitter  end.  They  merely  want  a  sufficient  let 
ting  down  of  principle  and  virtue  for  the  accomplish 
ment  of  their  purpose,  and  then  would  prefer  that 
the  downward  tendency  should  cease  or  be  reversed. 
The  merchant  who  requires  dishonorable  practices 
of  his  clerk  wishes  him  to  stop  at  a  point  which,  in 
the  world's  estimation,  is  safe.  And  those  who,  like 
Gregory,  would  take  the  bloom  from  woman's  purity 
and  holiness-'in  thought  and  action,  that  they  may 
enjoy  a  questionable  flirtation,  would  be  horrified  to 
see  that  woman  drop  into  the  foul  gulf  of  vice. 
With  the  blind  egotism  of  selfishness,  they  merely 
wish  to  gratify  their  present  inclinations,  ignoring 
the  consequences.  They  are  like  children  who  think 
it  would  be  sport  to  see  a  little  cataract  falling  over 
a  Holland  dike.  Therefore  when  the  tide  is  in  they 
open  a  small  channel,  but  are  soon  aghast  to  find 
that  the  deep  sea  is  overwhelming  the  land. 

Gregory,  as  with  his  kind,  thought  only  of  his 
own  desires.  When  he  had  accomplished  these 
Miss  Walton  must  take  care  of  herself.  When  from 
seeming  a  sweet,  pure  woman  he  had,  by  a  little 
temptation,  found  her  capable  of  becoming  a  vain 
flirt,  he  would  go  back  to  business  and  dismiss  her 
from  his  thoughts  with  the  grim  chuckle, 

44  She  is  like  the  rest  of  us." 

And  thus  Annie  was  destined  to  meet  her  Mother 
Eve's  experience  ;  and  with  the  energy  and  prompt- 


126  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ness  of  evil  Walter  was-keenly  on  the  alert  for  any 
thing  to  further  his  purpose. 

It  would  seem  that  the  Satanic  ally  in  such 
schemes  does  not  permit  opportunity  to  be  wanting 
long.  The  leader  of  the  meeting  again  selected  a 
'hymn,  but  of  a  peculiar  metre.  He  only  read  two 
lines,  and  then  looked  expectantly  toward  Annie. 
For  the  life  of  her  she  could  not  at  the  moment 
think  of  a  tune  that  would  answer ;  and  while  with 
knit  brows  she  was  bending  over  her  book,  to  her 
unbounded  surprise  she  heard  the  hymn  started  by 
a  clear,  mellow  tenor  voice,  arid  looking  up  saw 
Gregory  singing  as  gravely  as  a  deacon.  She  was 
sufficiently  a  musician  to  know  that  the  air  did  not 
belong  to  sacred  music,  though  she  had  never  heard 
it  before. 

In  his  watchfulness  he  had  noted  her  hesitation, 
and  glancing  at  the  metre  saw  instantly  that  the 
measure  of  a  drinking  song  he  knew  well  would  fit 
the  words.  This  fell  out  better  than  he  had  hoped 
and  with  the  thought,  "  I  will  jostle  her  out  of  hei 
dignity  now,"  commenced  singing  without  any  em 
barrassment,  though  every  eye  was  upon  him.  He 
had  been  out  in  the  world  too  long  for  that. 

As  Annie  turned  with  a  shocked  and  half-fright 
ened  expression  toward  him  his  eyes  met  hers  with 
a  sudden  gleam  of  drollery  which  was  irresistible,  and 
he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  drop  her  head 
to  conceal  a  smile.  But  he  noticed,  a  moment  later, 
that  her  face  became  grave  with  disapprobation. 

Having  sung  a  stanza  he  looked  around  with  an 


A  DRINK.'NG  SONG  A  T  PRA  YER-MEE  TING.      1 2/ 

injured  air,  as  if  reproaching  the  others  for  not  join- 
ing  in  with  him. 

"  The  tune  is  not  exactly  familiar  to  us,"  said  the 
good  man  leading  the  meeting,  "  but  if  the  brother 
will  continue  singing  we  will  soon  catch  the  air;  or 
perhaps  the  brother  or  some  one  else  (with  a  glance 
at  Annie)  will  start  one  better  known." 

Walter  deliberately  turned  over  the  leaves,  and 
to  the  tune  of  Old  Hundred  started  a  hymn  com 
mencing, 

"  Unveil  thy  bosom,  faithful  tomb, 
•  Take  this  new  treasure  to  thy  trust, 

And  give  these  sacred  relics  room 
To  slumber  in  the  silent  dust." 

Annie  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and 
the  transition  from  what  he  had  been  singing  to  the 
funereal  and  most  inappropriate  words  was  almost 
too  much  for  her.  To  her  impotent  anger  and  self- 
disgust  she  felt  a  hysterical  desire  to  laugh,  and 
only  controlled  herself  by  keeping  her  head  down 
and  lips  firmly  pressed  together  during  the  remain 
der  of  the  brief  service. 

Even  others  who  did  not  know  Walter  could  not 
prevent  a  broad  smile  at  the  incongruous  hymn  he 
had  chosen,  but  they  unitedly  wailed  it  through,  for 
he  persisted  in  singing  it  all  in  the  most  dirge-like 
manner.  They  gave  him  credit  for  doing  the  best 
he  could,  and  supposed  his  unhappy  choice  resulted 
from  haste  and  confusion.  In  the  spontaneity  of 
social  meetings  people  become  accustomed  to  much 
that  is  not  harmonious. 


128  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Mr.  Walton  was  puzzled.  His  guest  was  cer 
tainly  appearing  in  an  unexpected  role  and  he  sus 
pected  that  all  was  not  right. 

After  the  meeting  the  brethren  gathered  round 
and  thanked  him  for  his  assistance,  and  he  shook 
hands  with  them  and  the  elderly  ladies  present 
with  the  manner  of  one  who  might  have  been  a 
"  pillar  in  the  temple."  Many  of  them  remembered 
his  father  and  mother  and  supposed  their  mantle 
had  fallen  on  him. 

An  ancient  "  mother  in  Israel  "  thanked  him  that 
he  had  "  started  a  tune  that  they  all  could  sing 
instead  of  the  new-fangled  ones  the  young  people 
are  always  getting  up  nowadays.  But,"  said  she, 
"  I  wish  you  could  larn  us  that  pretty  one  you  first 
sang,  for  it  took  my  fancy  amazingly.  I  think  I 
must  have  heard  it  before  somewhere." 

Walter  gave  Annie  another  of  his  peculiar  looks, 
that  sent  her  out  hastily  into  the  darkness,  and  a 
moment  later  joined  her  at  the  carriage  steps. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION. 

REGORY  lifted  Miss  Walton  into  the  carriage 
very  tenderly,  and  took  his  place  by  her  side, 
while  her  father  was  detained  by  some  little  matter 
of  business. 

"  I  am  not  an  invalid,"  said  Annie,  rather  curtly. 

"  Indeed  you  are  not,  Miss  Walton ;  from  your 
super-abundance  you  are  even  giving  life  to  me." 

"  I  thought  from  your  manner  you  feared  I  was 
about  to  faint,"  she  answered  dryly. 

Mr.  Walton  joined  them  and  they  started  home 
ward. 

•'Come,  Miss  Annie,"  said  Walter  (addressing 
her  thus  for  the  first  time).  "  Why  so  distant  ?  Was 
I  not  called  a  brother  in  the  meeting  ?  If  I  am  a 
brother  you  are  a  sister.  I  told  you  I  would  secure 
this  relationship." 

She  did  not  answer  him. 

"  I  think  it  was  too  bad,"  he  continued,  "that 
you  did  not  second  my  efforts  better.  You  would 
not  help  me  sing  either  of  the  tunes  I  started." 

"  Mr.    Gregory,"    said   Annie    emphatically,  "  I 
will  never  go  to  a  prayer-meeting  with  you  again." 
6* 


130  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  What  a  rash  resolve  !     But  I  confess  that  I  pre 
ferred  to  have  you  stay  at  home  with  me." 

"  You  have  spoiled  the  whole  evening  for  me." 

"  And  you  spoiled  mine.  So  we  are  just  even," 
he  replied  laughingly. 

"  No  we  are  not.  How  can  you  turn  sacred 
things  into  a  jest  ?  " 

"  I  was  possessed  to  see  a  smile  light  up  the 
awful  gravity  of  your  face,  and  feel  amply  repaid  in 
that  I  succeeded.  It  was  a  delicious  bit  of  sunshine 
on  a  cloudy  day." 

"  And  I  am  provoked  with  myself  beyond  meas 
ure,  that  I  could  have  laughed  like  a  silly  child." 

"  But  did  you  not  like  the  first  tune  I  sang  ? 
*  Old  Hundred  '  was  selected  in  deference  to  the 
wishes  of  the  meeting." 

"  No,  I  did  not  like  it.  It  was  not  suitable  to 
the  place  and  words.  Though  I  never  heard  it 
before,  its  somewhat  slow  movement  did  not  prevent 
it  from  smacking  of  something  very  foreign  from  a 
prayer-meeting." 

"  A  most  happy  and  inspired  expression  !  Many 
a  time  I  have  smacked  my  lips  when  it  was  being 
sung  over  the  best  of  wine." 

"  Was  it  a  drinking  song,  then?"  she  asked 
quickly. 

"  What  will  you  do  with  me  if  I  say  it  was?  " 

."  Mr.  Gregory,  I  would  not  have  thought  this 
even  of  you." 

"  Even  of  me !  Come,  that  is  complimentary. 
I  now  learn  what  a  low  estimate  you  have  of  me. 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  i$i 

But  see  how  unjust  you  are.  The  musical  commis 
saries  of  the  church  militant  are  ever  saying,  *  It's  a 
pity  the  devil  should  have  all  the  good  music/  and 
so  half  the  Sunday-school  tunes,  and  marry  sung  in 
churcnes  have  had  a  lower  origin  than  my  drinking 
song.  I  assure  you  the  words  are  as  fine  as  the  air 
Why  have  I  not  as  good  a  right  to  hook  a  tune  from 
the  devil  as  the  rest  of  them  ?  " 

"  It's  the  motive  that  makes  all  the  difference," 
said  Annie.  "  But  I  fear  that  in  this  case  the  devil 
suffered  no  loss." 

"  I'm  sure  -my  motive  was  not  bad.  I  only 
wished  to  see  a  bonny  smile  light  up  your  face." 

Before  she  could  reply  the  carriage  stopped  at 
Mr.  Walton's  door,  and  with  Mr.  Gregory  she  passed 
into  the  cosey  parlor.  Her  father  did  not  imme 
diately  join  them. 

As  Walter  looked  at  her  while  she  took  off  her 
wraps,  he  thought : 

"  By  Jove !  she/s  handsome  if  she  is  not  pretty." 

In  fact  Annie's  face  at  that  time  would  have 
attracted  attention  anywhere.  The  crisp  air  had 
given  her  a  fine  color.  Her  eyes  glowed  with  a 
suppressed  excitement  and  anger,  while  the  firm 
lines  about  the  mouth  indicated  that  when  she  spoke 
it  would  be  decidedly.  In  spite  of  herself  the  audac 
ity,  cleverness,  and  wickedness  of  this  stranger  had 
affected  her  strangely.  As  he  threw  off  his  mood- 
iness,  as  he  revealed  himself  by  word  and  action,  she 
saw  that  he  was  no  ordinary  character,  but  a  thor 
ough  man  of  the  world  and  with  some  strange 


132 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


caprices.  The  suspicion  crossed  her  mind  that  he 
might  be  as  dangerous  as  he  was  in  danger  himself. 
But  she  had  determined  during  the  ride  home  that 
even  though  he  meant  no  slur  upon  them  he  should 
carry  his  mocking  spirit  no  more  into  sacred  things. 
Therefore,  after  a  moment's  thought,  she  turned  to 
ward  him  with  a  manner  of  mingled  frankness  and 
dignity,  and  said : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  regret  what  has  occurred  this 
evening,  I  have  a  painful  sense  of  the  ludicrous, 
arid  you  have  taken  unfair  advantage  of  it.  I  am 
usually  better  and  happier  for  going  to  our  simple 
little  meeting,  but  now  I  can  only  think  of  the  whole 
hour  with  pain.  I  think  I  am  as  mirth-loving  as  the 
majority  of  my  age,  and  perhaps  more  so.  I  say 
truly  that  my  heart  is  very  light  and  happy.  But 
Mr.  Gregory,  we  look  at  certain  things  very  differ 
ently  from  you.  While  I  would  not  for  a  moment 
have  you  think  that  religion  brings  into  my  life 
gloom  and  restraint — quite  the  reverse — still  it  gives 
me  great  pain  when  anything  connected  with  my 
faith  is  made  a  matter  of  jest.  These  things  are 
sacred  to  us,  and  I  know  my  father  would  feel  deeply 
grieved  if  he  understood  you  this  evening.  Do  you 
not  see  ?  It  appears  to  us  differently  from  what  it 
does  to  you  and  perhaps  to  the  world  at  large. 
These  things  are  to  us  what  your  mother's  memory 
is  to  you.  I,  would  sooner  cut  off  my  right  hand 
than  trifle  with  that." 

Gregory  had  been  able  to  maintain  his  quizzical 
look  of  mischief  till  she  named  his  mother  ;  then  his 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  133 

face  changed  instantly.  A  flush  of  shame  crossed 
it,  and  after  a  moment,  with  an  expression  some 
thing  like  true  manhood,  he  stepped  forward  and 
took  Annie's  hand,  saying  : 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  sincerely  ask  your  pardon.  I 
did  not  know — I  could  not  believe  that  you  felt  as 
you  do.  I  will  give  you  no  further  reason  to  com 
plain  of  me  on  this  ground.  I  hope  you  will  forgive 
me."  She  at  once  relented,  and  said : 

"  '  Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied 
Is  not  of  heaven  nor  earth/ 

Come,  there  is  an  apt  quotation  from  your  favorite 
Shakespeare." 

"  You  seem  a  delightful  mixture  of  both,  Miss 
Walton." 

"  If  you  were  a  better  judge,  sir,  you  would  know 
that  the  earthly  ingredient  is  too  great.  But  that  is 
in  your  favor,  for  I  am  sufficiently  human  to  make 
allowance  for  human  folly." 

"  I  shall  tax  your  charity  to  the  utmost." 

As  Walter  sat  down  in  his  arm-chair  to  recall  the 
events  of  the  day  before  retiring,  he  thought : 

"  Well,  my  attempt  has  failed  signally.  While 
by  her  involuntary  smile  she  showed  that  she  was 
human,  she  has  also  managed  this  evening  to  prove 
that  she  is  perfectly  sincere  in  her  religion,  and  to 
render  it  impossible  for  me  to  assail  her  in  that  di 
rection  again.  As  the  old  hymn  goes,  I  must  *  let  her 
religious  hours  alone.'  But  how  far  her  religion  or 
superstition  will  control  her  action  is  another  ques 
tion.  I  have  learned  both  at  home  and  abroad  that 


134 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


people  can  be  very  religious  and  very  sincere  in 
matters  of  faith  and  ceremony,  and  jealous  of  any 
hand  stretched  out  to  touch  their  sacred  ark,  but 
when  through  with  the  holy  business  they  can  live 
the  life  of  very  ordinary  mortals.  This  may  be  true  of 
Miss  Walton.  At  any  rate  I  have  made  a  mistake  in 
showing  my  hand  somewhat  at  a  prayer-meeting,  for 
women  are  so  tenacious  on  religious  matters.  Defen- 
ence,  personal  attention,  and  compliments — these  are 
the  irresistible  weapons.  These  inflate  pride  and 
vanity  to  such  a  degree  that  a  miserable  collapse  is 
necessary.  And  yet  I  must  be  careful,  for  she  is 
not  like  some  belles  I  know,  who  have  the  swallow 
of  a  whale  for  flattery.  She  is  too  intelligent,  too  re 
fined  to  take  compliments  as  large  and  glaring  as  a 
sunflower.  Something  in  the  way  of  a  moss-rose 
bud  will  acomplish  more.  I  will  appear  as  if  falling 
under  her  power;  as  if  bewitched  by  her  charms. 
Nothing  pleases  your  plain  girls  mote  than  to  be 
thought  beautiful.  I  will  have  her  head  turned  in  a 
week.  I  am  more  bent  than  ever  on  teaching  this 
little  Puritan  that  she  and  I  live  upon  the  same 
level/' 

Saturday  morning  dawned  clear  and  bracing,  and 
the  grass  was  white  with  hoar  frost.  The  children 
came  in  to  breakfast  with  glowing  cheeks  and  hair 
awry,  crying  excitedly  in  the  same  breath  that  they 
"  had  been  to  the  chestnut  trees  and  that  Jack  had 
opened  the  burrs  all  night." 

In  answer  to  their  clamorous  petitions  a  one 
o'clock  dinner  was  promised,  and  Aunt  Annie  was  to 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  135 

accompany  them  on  a  nutting  expedition  with  Jeff 
as  pioneer  to  thrash  and  club  the  trees. 

"  Can  I  go  too  ?  "  asked  Walter  of  the  children. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Johnnie,  rather  coldly,  "  If 
Aunt  Annie  is  willing." 

"  You  can  go  with  me,"  said  kind-hearted  little 
Susie. 

"  Now  I  can  go  whether  Aunt  Annie  is  willing  or 
not,"  said  Walter  with  mock  defiance  at  the  boy. 

He  glanced  at  his  aunt's  face  to  gather  how  he 
should  take  this,  but  she  settled  the  matter  satisfact 
orily  to  him  by  saying  : 

"  You  shall  be  my  beau,  and  Mr.  Gregory  will 
be  Susie's." 

"  Good,  good  !  "  exclaimed  Susie.  "  I've  got  a 
beau  already;  "  and  she  beamed  upon  Walter  in  a 
way  that  made  them  all  laugh. 

"  *  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before,'  you 
perceive,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Walter  meaningly. 

"  Sometimes  the  events  themselves  are  but  shad 
ows,"  she  replied,  drily. 

"  Now  that  is  severe  upon  the  beaux.  How 
about  the  belles  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"  I   have   nothing  to  say  against  my  own   sex, 


sir/' 


"  That  is  not  fair.  Of  course  I  can  say  nothing 
adverse." 

"  If  you  would  say  what  you  think  I  fear  we 
would  be-  little  inclined  to  cry  with  Shylock,  '  A 
Daniel  come  to  judgment '  !  " 

"You    have    a    dreadful    opinion   of  me    Miss 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Walton.     I  wish  you   would  teach   me  how  I  can 
change  it." 

"  You  found  so  much  in  a  chestnut  burr  the  day 
you  came  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  you  found 
everything  else  there  that  you  wish  to  know." 

"  I  shall  not  look  in  burrs  for  chestnuts  this  after 
noon,  but  something  else  far  more  important." 

Walter  spent  the  forenoon  quietly  in  his  own 
room  reading,  in  order  that  he  might  have  all  the 
strength  and  vigor  possible  for  the  ramble.  And  to 
Annie,  as  housekeeper,  Saturday  morning  brought 
many  duties. 

By  two  o'clock  the  nutting  expedition  was  organ 
ized,  and  with  Jeff  in  advance  with  a.  short  ladder  on. 
his  left  shoulder  and  a  long,  limber  pole  in  his  right 
hand,  the  party  started  for  the  hills.  At  first  John-' 
nie  oppressed  with  his  dignity  as  Aunt  Annie's 
"  beau,"  stalked  soberly  at  her  side,  and  Susie  also 
claimed  Walter  according  to  agreement,  and  insisted 
on  keeping  hold  of  his  hand. 

Walter  submitted  with  such  grace  as  he  could 
muster,  for  children  were  tiresome  to  him,  and  he 
wanted  to  talk  to  Miss  Walton,  without  "little 
pitchers  with  large  ears"  around. 

Annie  smiled  to  herself  at  his  half-concealed 
annoyance  and  wooden  gallantry  to  Susie,  but  she 
understood  childish  life  well  enough  to  know  that 
the  present \  arrangement  would  not  last  very  long. 
And  she  was  right.  They  had  hardly  entered 
the  shady  lane  leading  to  the  trees  before  a 
chipmonk,  with  its  shrill  note  of  exclamation  at 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION. 


137 


Unexpected   company,   started   out  of  some  leaves 
near  and  ran  for  its  hole. 

Away  went  Aunt  Annie's  beau  after  it,  and 
Susie  also,  quite  oblivious  of  her  first  possession  in 
that  line,  joined  in  the  pursuit.  There  was  an  excited 
consultation  above  the  squirrel's  retreat,  and  then 
Johnnie  out  with  his  knife  and  cut  a  flexible  rod 
with  which  to  investigate  the  "  robber's  den." 

Gregory  at  once  joined  Annie,  saying,  "  Since 
the  beau  of  your  choice  has  deserted  you,  will  you 
except  of  another  ?  " 

"  Yes,  till  he  proves  alike  inconstant." 

"  I  will  see  to  that.  A  burr  shall  be  my  em 
blem." 

"  Or  I  do,"  she  added,  laughing. 

"  Now  the  future  is  beyond  my  power/' 
'  Perhaps  it  is  anyway.     Johnnie  was  bent  upon 
being  a  true  knight.     You  may  see  something  that 
will  be  to  you  what  the  chipmonk  was  to  him," 

"  And  such  is  your  opinion  of  men's  constancy? 
Miss  Walton,  you  are  more  of  a  cynic  than  I  am." 

"  Indeed  !  Do  women  dwell  in  your  fancy  as 
fixed  stars  ?  " 

"  Fixed  stars  are  all  suns,  are  they  not  ?     I  know 
of  one  with  wonderful  powers  of  attraction,"  said* 
Walter  with  a  significant  glance. 

"Does  she  live  in  New  York?"  quietly  asked 
Annie. 

"  You  know  well  she  does  not.  She  is  a  votress 
of  nature,  and,  as  I  said,  I  shall  search  in  every  burr 
for  the  hidden  clue  to  her  favor." 


138  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  You  had  better  look  for  chestnuts,  sir." 

"  Chestnuts !  'Fit  food  for  children  and  chip- 
monks.  I  am  in  quest  of  the  only  manna  that  ever 
fell  from  •  Heaven.  Have  you  read  Longfellow's 
Golden  Legend,  Miss  Walton?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  with  a  slight  contraction  of 
the  brow  as  if  the  suggestion  were  not  pleasing. 

The  children  now  came  bounding  towards,  them 
and  each  wanted  to  resume  their  old  places. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Walter  decisively.  "  You  de 
serted  your  fair  lady's  side  and  your  place  is  filled ; 
and  Susie — 

«' '  Thou  fair,  false  one,' 

— you  renounced  me  for  a  chipmonk.  My  wounded 
heart  has  found  solace  in  another." 

Johnnie  received  this  charge  against  his  gallantry 
with  a  red  face  and  eyes  that  began  to  dilate  with 
anger,  while  Susie  looked  at  Walter  poutingly  and 
said : 

"  I  don't  like  big  beaux.  I  think  chipmonks  are 
ever  so  much  nicer." 

The  laugh  that  followed  broke  the  force  of  the 
storm  that  was  brewing  ;  and  Annie,  by  saying,  "  See, 
children,  Jeff  is  climbing  the  tree  on  top  of  the  hill, 
I  wonder  who  will  get  the  first  nuts,"  caused  the 
wind  to  veer  round  from  the  threatening  quarter, 
and  away  they  scampered  with  grievances  all  for 
gotten. 

"  If  grown-up  children  could  only  forget  their 
troubles  as  easily  !"  sighed  Walter.  "  Miss  Walton, 


FOILED  IN  ONE  DIRECTION.  139 

you  are  gifted  with  admirable  tact.     Your  witchery 
has  cleared  up  another  storm." 

"  They  have  not  forgotten,"  said  Annie,  ignoring 
the  compliment — "  they  have  only  been  diverted 
from  their  trouble.  Children  can  do  by  nature 
what  we  should  from  intelligent  choice — turn  away 
the  mind  from  painful  subjects  to  those  that  are 
pleasing.  You  don't  catch  me  brooding  over  trou 
ble  when  there  are  a  thousand  pleasant  things  to 
think  of." 

"  That  is  easier  said  than  done,  Miss  Walton.  I 
read  on  your  smooth  brow  that  you  have  had  few 
serious  troubles,  and,  as  you  say,  ' you  have  a  thou 
sand  pleasant  things  to  think  of.'  But  with  others 
it  may  be  very  different.  Some  troubles  have  a  ter 
rible  magnetism  that  draws  the  mind  back  to  them 
as  if  by  a  malign  spell,  and  there  are  no  *  pleasant 
things  to  think  of.'  " 

'"No  'pleasant  things'?  Why,  Mr.  Gregory! 
The  universe  is  very  wide." 

"  Present    company   excepted,"  replied  he  gal 
lantly.     "  But  what  do  I  care  for  the  universe  ?    As 
you   say,  it   is  '  very  wide,' — a  big,  uncomfortable 
place,  that  one  is  afraid  of  getting  lost  in." 
"  I  am  not,"  said  Annie,  gently. 
"  How  so  ?" 

"  It's  all  my  Father's  house.  I  am  never  for  a 
moment  lost  sight  of.  Wherever  I  am,  I  am  like  a 
little  child  playing  outside  the  door  while  its  mother, 
unseen,  is  watching  it  from  the  window." 

He  looked  at  her  keenly  to  see  if  she  were  per- 


140 


OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 


fectly  sincere.  Her  face  had  the  expression  of  a 
little  child,  and  the  thought  flashed  across  him  : 

"  If  she  is  so  watched  and  guarded,  how  vain  are 
my  attempts !" 

But  he  only  said  with  a  shrug : 

"  It  would  be  a  pity  to  dissipate  your  happy  su 
perstition,  Miss  Walton,  but  after  what  I  have  seen 
and  experienced  in  the  world,  it  would  seem  more 
generally  true  that  the  mother  forgot  her  charge, 
left  the  window,  and  the  child  was  run  over  by  the 
butcher's  cart." 

"  Do  not  think  it  vain  confidence,"  said  Annie, 
earnestly,  "  when  I  say  that  you  could  not  dissipate 
what  you  term  my  '  superstition,'  any  more  than 
you  could  argue  me  out  of  my  belief  in  my  good  old 
father's  love." 


CHAPTER  XIIl. 

INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS. 

fTlHE  conversation  had  taken  a  turn  that  Gregory 
J-  wished  to  avoid,  so  he  said  : 

"  Miss  \Vaiton,  you  regard  me  as  wretched  auth 
ority  on  theology,  and  therefore  my  opinions  will  go 
for  nothing.  I  move  we  join  the  children  on  the 
hill,  for  I  am  most  anxious  to  commence  the  search 
for  the  clue  to  your  favor.  Give  me  your  hand,  that 
as  your  attendant  I  may  at  least  appear  to  assist  you 
in  climbing,  though  I  suppose  you  justly  think  you 
could  help  me  more  than  1  can  you." 

"  And  if  I  can,  why  should  I  not  ?  "  asked  Annie 
kindly." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  would  crawl  up  first. 
But  thanks  to  your  reviving  influences,  I  am  not  so 
far  gone  as  that." 

"  Then  you  would  not  permit  a  woman  to  reach 
out  a  helping  hand  to  you  ?  Talk  not  against  Turks 
and  Arabs.  How  do  Christian  men  regard  us  ?" 

"  But  you  look  upon  me  as  a  l  heathen.' " 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  I  do  not." 

"  Miss  Walton,  give  your  honest  opinion  of  me — 
just  what  you  think." 

"  Will  you  do  the  same  of  me  ?  " 


142  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR 

11  Oh,  certainly  !  " 

"  No,  do  not  answer  in  that  tone.  On  your  honor 
as  a  gentleman." 

Walter  was  now  caught.  If  he  agreed  he  must 
state  the  doubts  of  her  real  goodness  ;  his  low  esti 
mate  of  women  in  general  which  led  to  his  purpose 
to  tempt  her.  This  would  not  only  arm  her  against 
his  efforts  but  place  him  in  a  very  unpleasant  light, 
So  he  said  hastily  : 

"  I  beat  a  retreat,  Miss  Walton.  I  am  satisfied 
that  your  opinion  would  discourage  me  utterly." 

"  You  need  have  no  fears  of  that  kind,"  she 
said  ;  "  though  my  opinion  would  not  be  flattering, 
it  would  be  most  encouraging/' 

"  No,  Miss  Walton,  I  am  not  to  be  caught.  My 
every  glance  and  word  reveal  my  opinion  of  you, 
while  yours  of  me  amounts  to  what  I  used  to  hear 
years  ago :  "  You  are  a  bad  boy  now,  but  may 
become  a  good  one.'  Come,  give  me  your  hand, 
and  let  me  seem  something  like  a  man  as  long  as  I 
can." 

As  she  complied  she  gave  him  a  quick,  keen  look. 
Her  intuition  told  her  of  something  hidden,  and  yet 
he  puzzled  her. 

Her  hand  was  ungloved,  and  he  thought,  "  When 
have  I  clasped  such  a  hand  before?  It  could  help  a 
Hercules.  At  any  rate  he  would  like  to  hold  it,  for 
it  is  alive." 

There  is  as  much  diversity  in  the  character  of 
hands  as  in  faces.  Some  are  very  white  and  shapely 
and  a  diamond  flashes  prettily  upon  them,  but  having 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.         143 

sai  i  this  you  have  said  all.  Others  suggest  horiest 
wojk  and  plenty  of  it,  and  for  such  the  sensible  will 
ever  have  real  respect.  There  are  some  hands  that 
make  you  think  of  creatures  whose  blood  is  cold. 
A  lady's  hand  in  society  often  suggests  feebleness, 
lack  of  vitality.  It  is  a  thing  to  touch  decorously, 
and  if  feeling  betray  you  into  giving  a  hearty  grasp 
and  pressure,  you  find  that  you  are  only  causing 
pain  and  reducing  the  member  to  a  confused  jumble 
of  bones  and  sinews.  These  are  hands  that  suggest 
fancy,  work,  light  crochet  needles,  and  neuralgia. 

Annie's  hand  was  not  one  that  a  sculptor  would 
care  to  copy,  though  he  would  find  no  great  fault 
with  it ;  but  a  sculptor  would  certainly  find  it  a 
pleasure  to  shake  hands  with  her — the  pleasure  that 
is  the  contrast  with  our  shrinking  from  taking  the 
hand  of  the  dead.  It  was  soft  and  delicate  to  the 
pressure  and  yet  firm.  It  reminded  one  of  silk 
drawn  over  steel,  and  all  electric  and  throbbing  with 
life.  You  felt  that  it  could  give  you  the  true  grasp 
of  friendship — that  it  had  power  to  do  more  than 
barely  cling  to  something,  but  could  both  help  and 
sustain,  and  yet  its  touch  would  be  gentleness  itself 
around  the  couch  of  suffering. 

Walter  believed  in  magnetism,  and  determined 
to  test  her  power  the  first  opportunity  that  occurred. 
Indeed,  he  scarcely  dreaded  one  of  his  nervous  head 
aches  in  his  wish  to  try  her  healing  touch. 

When  they  had  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  he 
was  much  more  exhausted  than  she,  and  sat  down 
panting. 


144 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


"  Miss  Walton,"  he  asked,  "  do  you  not  despise 
a  feeble  man  ?  " 

"  What  kind  of  feebleness  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  weakness  that  makes  me  sit  pale  and  pant 
ing  here,  while  you  stand  there  glowing  with  life  and 
vigor,  a  veritable  Hebe." 

"  Now,  sir,  all  your  compliments  cannot  bal 
ance  that  imputation  against  me.  Such  weakness 
awakens  my  pity,  sympathy,  and  wish  to  help." 

"  Ah !  the  emotions  you  would  bestow  on  a  beg 
gar.  Very  agreeable  to  a  man.  Well,  what  kind  of 
feebleness  do  you  despise  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  should  despise  a  feeble,  vacillating 
Hercules  most  of  all — a  burly,  assuming  sort  of  per 
son,  who  could  be  made  a  tool  of,  and  led  to  do 
what  he  knew  to  be  mean  and  wrong." 

"  You  must  despise  a  great  many  people  then." 

"  No,  I  do  not.  Honestly,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  have 
no  right  to  despise  anyone.  I  was  only  giving  the 
reverse  of  my  ideal  man.  But  I  assure  you  I  share 
too  deeply  in  humanity's  faults  to  be  very  critical. 
The  best  man  that  ever  lived  came  not  to  condemn 
but  to  help." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear,  Miss  Walton,  that  you* 
share  in  our  fallen  humanity,  for  I  was  beginning  to 
doubt  it,  and  you  can  well  understand  that  /  would 
be  dreadfully  uncomfortable  in  the  presence  of  per 
fection." 

"  If  you  could  escape  all  other  sources  of  discom 
fort  as  surely  as  this  one,  you  would  be  a  happy 
man,"  replied  Annie  with  heightened  color.  "  I 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.          145 

shall  ever  think  you  are  satirical  when  you  speak  in 
that  style." 

"  A  truce,  Miss  Walton ;  only,  in  mercy  to  my 
poor  mortality,  be  as  human  as  you  can.  Though 
you  seem  to  suspect  me  of  a  low  estimate  of  your 
sex,  I  much  prefer  women  to  saints  and  Madonnas. 
I  am  going  to  look  for  the  burr." 

This  was  adroitness  itself  on  the  part  of  Gregory, 
for  of  all  things  sensible  Annie,  conscious  of  faults 
and  many  struggles,  did  not  wish  to  give  the  impres 
sion  that  she  thought  herself  approaching  perfection. 
And  yet.  he  had  managed  to  make  her  sensitive  on 
that  point,  and  given  her  a  strong  motive  to  relax 
strict  rules  of  duty,  and  act  "  like  other  people,"  as 
he  would  say. 

Jeffs  limber-pole  was  now  doing  effective  service. 
With  a  soft  thud  upon  the  sward  and  leaves  the 
burrs  rained  around,  while  the  detached  chestnuts 
rattled  down  like  hail.  The  children  were  careering 
about  this  little  tempest  of  Jeff's  manufacture  in  a 
state  of  wild  glee,  dodging  the  random  burrs  and 
snatching  what  nuts  they  could  in  safety  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  prickly  shower.  At  last  the  tree  was 
well  thrashed,  and  had  the  appearance  of  a  school 
boy  bully  who,  after  bristling  with  threats  and  boasts 
for  a  long  time,  suddenly  meets  his  master  and  is 
left  in  a  very  meek  and  plucked  condition. 

But   the   moment   Jeffs   pole    ceased  its  sturdy 

strokes  there  was  a  rush  for  the  spoils,  the  children 

awakening  the  echoes  with   their   exclamations  of 

delight  as  they  found  the  ground  covered  with  what 

7 


146  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

was  more  precious  to  them  than  gold  dust.  Even 
Gregory's  sluggish  pulses  tingled  and  quickened  at 
the  well  remembered  scene,  and  felt  the  contagion 
of  their  excitement.  For  the  moment  he  determined 
to  be  a  boy  again,  and  running  into  the  charmed 
circle,  picked  away  as  fast  as  any  of  them  till  his 
physical  weakness  painfully  reminded  him  that  his 
old  tireless  activity  had  passed  away,  perhaps  for 
ever. 

He  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and 
commenced  noting,  with  something  of  an  artist's 
eye,  the  pretty  picture.  The  valley  beneath  was 
beginning  to  glow  with  the  richest  October  tints,  in 
the  midst  of  which  was  his  old  home,  that  to  his 
affection  seemed  like  a  gem  set  in  gold,  ruby,  and 
emerald.  The  stream  appeared  white  and  silvery  as 
seen  through  openings  of  the  bordering  trees,  and 
in  the  distance,  the  purple  haze  arid  mountains 
blended  together,  leaving  it  in  uncertainty  where 
the  granite  began,  even  as  in  Gregory's  mind  fact 
and  fancy  were  confusedly  mingling  in  regard  to 
Miss  Walton. 

And  he  soon  turned  even  from  that  loved  and 
beautiful  landscape  to  her  as  an  object  of  piquant 
interest,  and  the  pleasure  of  analyzing  and  testing 
her  character  and — well,  some  hidden  fascination  of 
ner  own — caused  a  faint  stir  of  excitement  at  his 
heart,  even  as  the  October  air  and  exercise  had 
just  tinged  his  pale  cheeks  into  slight  resemblance 
to  the  Autumn  foliage. 

But    Miss   Walton   reminded   him   of    a  young 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.          147 

sugar  maple  that  he  had  noticed,  all  aflame,  from  his 
window  that  morning,  so  rich  and  high  was  her 
color,  as,  still  intent  upon  the*thickly.  scattered  nuts, 
she  followed  the  old  unspent  childish  impulse  to 
gather  now  as  she  had  when  like  Susie  at  her  side. 
With  a  half  wondering  smile  *  Walter  watched  her 
intent  childlike  expression,  so  like  that  of  the  other 
children,  and  thought : 

"  Well,  she  is  the  freshest  and  most  unhackneyed 
young  lady  I  have  ever  met  for  one  who  knows  so 
much.  It  seems  true,  as  she  said,  that  she  draws 
her  life  from  nature  and  will  never  grow  old.  Now 
she  is  a  child  with  those  children,  looking  and  acting 
like  them.  A  moment  later  she  will  be  a  self-pos 
sessed  young  lady,  with  a  quick,  trained  intellect 
that  I  can  scarcely  cope  with.  And  yet  in  each  and 
every  character  she  seems  so  real  and  vital  that  even 
I,  in  spite  of  myself,  feel  compelled  to  admit  her 
truth.  Her  life  is  like  a  glad,  musical  mountain 
stream,  while  I  am  a  stagnant  pool  that  she  passes 
and  leaves  behind.  I  wonder  if  it  is  possible  for 
one  life  to  be  awakened  and  quickened  by  another  ? 
I  wonder  if  her  vital  force  would  be  strong  enough 
to  drag  another  on  who  had  almost  lost  the  power 
to  follow?  It  is  said  that  young  fresh  blood  can  be 
infused  directly  into  the  veins  of  the  old  and  feeble. 
Can  the  same  be  true  of  moral  forces,  and  a  glad 
zest  and  interest  in  life  be  breathed  into  the  jaded, 
cloyed,  ennui-cursed  spirit  of  one  who  regards  exis 
tence  with  dull  eye,  a  sluggish  pulse,  and  heart  of 
lead  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  if  any  one  could  have 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

such  power  it  would  be  that  girl  there  with  her 
intense  vitality  and  subtle  connection  with  nature, 
which  as  she  says,  is  ever  young  and  vigorous. 
And  yet  I  propose  to  reveal  her  to  herself  as  a  weak, 
vain  creature,  and  that  her  fair  seeming  is  like  a 
pasteboard  castle  that  the  breath  of  flattery  can 
destroy.  By  Jove,  I  half  hope  I  won't  succeed,  and 
yet  to  satisfy  myself  I  shall  carry  the  test  to  the 
utmost  limit." 

In  her  absorbed  search  for  nuts,  Annie  had 
approached  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  was  stooping 
almost  at  Gregory's  feet  without  noticing  him.  Sud 
denly  she  turned  up  a  burr  whose  appearance  so 
interested  her  that  she  stood  up  to  examine  it,  and 
then  became  conscious  of  his  intent  gaze. 

"  There  you  stand,"  she  said,  "  cool  and  superior, 
criticising  and  laughing  at  me  as  a  great  overgrown 
child." 

"  If  you  had  looked  more  closely  you  would  have 
seen  anything  rather  than  cool  criticism  in  my  face. 
I  wish  you  could  tell  me  your  secret,  Miss  Walton. 
What  is  your  hidden  connection  with  nature  that  her 
strong,  beautiful  life  flows  so  freely  into  yours  ?  " 

"  If  I  told  you  you  would  not  believe  me.'' 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
believe  anything  you  told  me,  you  seem  so  real. 
But  pardon  me,  you  have  in  your  hand  the  very  burr 
I  have  been  looking  vainly  for.  Perhaps  in  it  I  may 
find  the  coveted  clue  tc  your  favor.  It  may  win- 
ningly  suggest  to  you  my  meaning,  while  plain,  bald 
words  would  only  repel.  If  I  could  only  interpret 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.          149 

nature  as  you  breathe  her  spirit  I  might  find  the 
leaves  of  the  forest  like  those  of  a  superbly  bound 
copy  of  Shakespeare,  and  every  object — even  such  an 
insignificant  one  as  this  burr — an  inspired  illustra 
tion.  When  men  come  to  read  nature's  open  book, 
publishers  may  despair.  If  I  wished  to  tell  you  how 
I  would  dwell  in  your  thoughts,  what  poet  has  writ 
ten  anything  equal  to  this  half-open  burr  ?  It  por 
trays  our  past,  it  gives  our  present  relations,  and 
suggests  the  future ;  only,  like  all  parables,  it  must 
not  be  pressed  too  far  or  too  much  prominence  given 
to  some  mere  detail.  These  prickly  outward  point 
ing  spines  represent  the  reserve  and  formality  which 
keeps  comparative  strangers  apart.  But  now  the 
burr  is  half  open,  revealing  its  heart  of  silk  and 
down.  So  if  one  could  get  past  the  barriers  which 
you,  alike  with  all,  turn  toward  an  indifferent  or  un 
friendly  world,  a  kindliness  would  be  found  that 
would  surround  a  cherished  friend  as  these  silken 
sides  envelop  this  sole  and  favored  chestnut.  Again, 
note  that  the  burr  is  half  open  now,  indicating,  I 
hope,  the  progress  we  have  made  toward  such  friend 
ship.  I  have  no  true  friend  in  the  wide  world  that  I 
can  trust,  and  I  would  like  to  believe  that  your  re 
gard,  like  this  burr,  is  opening  toward  me.  The  final 
suggestion  that  I  would  draw  may  seem  selfish,  and 
yet  is  it  not  natural?  This  chestnut  dwells  alone  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  burr.  We  do  not  like  to 
share  a  supreme  friendship.  There  are  some  in 
whose  esteem  we  would  be  first." 

When  Walter  finished  he  was  half  frightened  at 


150  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

his  words,  for  in  the  carrying  out  of  his  fanciful 
figure  and  in  the  bold  style  of  coquetry  he  had 
learned  to  employ  toward  the  belles  of  the  ball-room, 
and  from  a  certain  unaccountable  fascination  that 
Annie  herself  had  for  him,  he  had  said  more  than  he 
meant. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  thought,  "  if  she  should 
take  this  for  a  declaration  and  accept  me  on  the 
spot,  I  should  then  be  in  the  worst  scrape  of  my 
sorry  life." 

A  man  may  be  very  much  interested  in  a  lady 
before  reaching  the  point  of  wishing  to  marry  her, 
and  vice  versa,  of  course. 

Miss  Walton's  manner  rather  puzzled  him.  Her 
heightened  color  and  quickened  breathing  alarmed 
him,  while  the  contraction  of  her  brow  and  firmness 
of  her  lips,  together  with  an  intent  look  on  the  chest 
nut  in  the  centre  of  the  burr  rather  than  a  languish 
ing  look  at  him  or  at  nothing,  were  more  assuring. 
She  puzzled  him  still  more  when,  as  her  only  re 
sponse  to  all  this  sentiment,  she  asked : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  will  you  lend  me  your  penknife  ?  " 

Without  a  word  he  handed  it  to  her,  and  she  at 
the  same  time  took  the  burr  from  his  hand,  and  dain 
tily  plucking  out  the  chestnut  tossed  the  burr  rather 
contemptuously  away. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  if  I  understand  your  rather  far 
fetched  and  forced  interpretation  of  this  little  paradox 
of  nature,  you  chose  to  represent  yourself  by  this 
great  lonely  chestnut  occupying  the  space  where 
three  might  have  grown.  On  observing  this  emble- 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.          151 

matic  nut  closely  I  detect  something  that  may  also 
have  a  place  in  your  '  parable  ; '  "  and  she  pushed 
aside  the  little  quirl  at  the  small  end  of  the  nut? 
which  partially  concealed  a  worm-hole,  and  cutting 
through  the  shell  showed  the  destroyer  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  kernel. 

There  was  nothing  far-fetched  in  this  suggestion 
of  nature,  and  he  saw — and  he  understood  that  Miss 
Walton  saw — evil  enthroned  in  the  very  depths  of 
his  soul.  The  revelation  of  the  hateful  truth  was  so 
sudden  and  sharp  that  his  face  darkened  with  invol 
untary  pain  and  anger.  It  seemed  to  him  that  by 
the  simple  act  of  showing  him  the  worm-infested 
chestnut,  she  had  rejected  anything  approaching 
even  friendship,  and  had  also  given  him  a  good  but 
humiliating  reason  why.  He  lost  his  self-possession 
and  forgot  that  he  deserved  a  stinging  rebuke  for 
his  insincerity.  He  would  have  turned  away  in 
coldness  and  resentment.  His  visit  to  the  Waltons 
might  have  come  to  an  abrupt  termination  had  not 
Annie,  with  that  delicate,  womanly  tact  which  was 
one  of  her  most  marked  characteristics,  interrupted 
him  as  he  was  about  to  say  something  to  the  effect : 
"  Miss  Walton,  since  you  are  so  much  holier  than  I, 
it  were  better  that  I  should  contaminate  the  air 
you  breathe  no  longer." 

She  looked  into  his  clouded  face  with  an  open 
smile,  and  said : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  have  been  unfortunate  in  the 
choice  of  a  burr.  Now  let  me  choose  for  you."  And 


152 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


she  commenced  looking  around  for  one  to  her  taste 
and  purpose. 

This  gave  him  time  to  recover  himself  and  to 
realize  the  folly  of  quarrelling  or  showing  any  special 
feeling  in  regard  to  the  matter.  After  a  moment  he 
was  only  desirous  of  some  pretext  for  laughing  the 
whole  matter  off,  but  how  to  manage  it  he  did  not 
know,  and  was  inwardly  cursing  himself  as  a  blun 
dering  fool  and  no  match  for  this  child  of  nature. 

Annie  soon  came  toward  him,  saying,  "  Perhaps 
this  burr  will  suggest  better  meanings.  You  see  it 
is  wide  open.  That  means  perfect  frankness.  There 
are  three  chestnuts  here  instead  of  one.  We  must 
be  willing  to  share  the  regard  of  others.  One  of 
these  nuts  has  the  central  place.  As  we  come  to 
know  people  well,  we  usually  find  some  one  occupy 
ing  the  supreme  place  in  their  esteem,  and  though 
we  may  approach  closely  we  should  not  wish  to 
usurp  what  belongs  to  another.  Under  Jeffs  vigor 
ous  blows  the  burr  and  its  contents  have  had  a  tre 
mendous  downfall,  but  they  have  not  parted  com 
pany.  True  friends  should  stick  together  in  adver 
sity.  What  do  you  think  of  my  interpretation  ? '' 

"  I  think  you  are  a  witch,  beyond  doubt,  and  if 
yt  u  had  lived  a  few  centuries  ago,  you  would  have 
b  "<en  sent  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  give  me  a  hot  answer, 
but  it  is  with  such  a  smiling  face  that  I  will  take  no 
e  iception,  but  rather  take  your  arm  and  follow  Jeff 
a.id  the  children  along  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  the 
next  tree.  The  fact  is  I  am  a  little  tired." 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.          153 

What  controversy  could  a  man  have  with  a  pretty 
and  wearied  girl  who  leaned  confidingly  on  his  arm  ? 
Gregory  felt  like  a  boy  who  had  received  a  deserved 
whipping  and  yet  was  compelled  and  somewhat 
inclined  to  act  very  amiably  toward  the  donor.  But 
he  was  fast  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  this  unas 
suming  country  girl  was  a  difficult  subject  on  which 
to  perform  his  experiment.  He  was  learning  to  have 
a  wholesome  respect  for  her  that  was  slightly  tinged 
with  fear,  and  doubts  of  success  in  his  plot  against 
her  grew  stronger  every  moment.  And  yet  the  ele 
ment  of  persistency  was  large  in  his  character,  and 
he  could  not  give  over  his  purpose  readily,  though 
his  cynical  confidence  had  vanished.  He  now  de 
termined  to  observe  her  closely  and  discover  if  pos 
sible  her  weak  points.  He  still  held  to  the  theory 
that  flattery  was  the  most  available  weapon,  though 
he  saw  he  could  employ  it  no  longer  in  the 
form  of  fulsome  and  outspoken  compliment.  The 
innate  refinement  and  truthfulness  of  Annie's  nature 
revolted  at  broad  gallantry  and  adulation.  He  be 
lieved  that  he  must  reverse  the  tactics  he  usually 
employed  in  society  but  not  the  principles.  There 
fore  he  resolved  that  his  flattery  should  be  delicate, 
subtle — manifested  in  manner  rather  than  in  words. 
He  would  seem  submissive;  he  would  humbly  wear 
the  air  of  a  conquered  one.  He  woufd  delicately 
maintain  the  "  I-am-at-your-mercy,"  attitude. 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  as  they 
passed  along  the  brow  of  the  hill,  which  at  every 
turn  gave  them  a  new  and  beautiful  landscape.     But 
7* 


154 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


vales  in  Eden  would  not  have  secured  his  attention 
then.  To  his  perplexity  this  new  acquaintance  had 
secured  his  undivided  interest.  He  felt  that  he 
ought  to  be  angry  at  her,  and  yet  was  not.  He 
felt  that  a  man  who  had  seen  as  much  of  the  world 
as  he,  should  be  able  to  play  with  this  little  country 
girl  as  with  a  child  ;  but  he  was  becoming  convinced 
that,  with  all  his  art,  he  was  no  match  for  her  art- 
lessness. 

In  the  interpretation  of  the  burr  of  her  own 
choice,  Annie  had  suggested  that  the  central  and 
supreme  place  in  her  heart  was  already  occupied,  and 
his  thoughts  recurred  frequently  to  that  fact  with 
uneasiness.  The  slightest  trace  of  jealousy,  even  as 
the  merest  twinge  of  pain  is  often  precursor  of  serious 
disease,  indicated  the  power  Miss  Walton  might 
gain  over  one  who  thought  himself  proof  against  all 
such  influence.  But  he  tried  to  satisfy  himself  in 
thinking,  "  It  is  her  father  who  occupies  the  first 
place  in  her  affections." 

Then  a  moment  later  with  a  mental  protest  at  his 
folly,  "  What  do  I  care  who  has  the  first  place? 
Well,  I  may  not,  for  she  will  not  permit  such  a 
reprobate  as  I,  with  evil  in  my  heart  like  that  cursed 
worm  in  the  chestnut,  to  have  any  place  worth  nam 
ing — unless  I  can  introduce  a  little  canker  of  evil  in 
her  heart  also.  I  wish  I  could.  That  would  bring 
us  nearer  together  and  upon  the  same  level." 

Annie  saw  the  landscapes.  She  looked  away 
from  the  man  upon  whose  arm  she  leaned  and  for  a 
few  moments  forgot  him.  The  scenes  upon  which 


INTERPRETING  CHESTNUT  BURRS.          155 

she  was  gazing  were  associated  with  another,  and 
she  ardently  wished  that  other  and  more  favored  one 
could  exchange  places  with  Gregory.  Her  eyes 
grew  dreamy  and  tender  as  she  recalled  words  spo7 
ken  in  days  gone  by  when,  with  her  heart  thrilling 
with  a  young  girl's  first  dream  of  love,  she  leaned 
upon  Charles  Hunting's  arm,  and  listened  to  that 
sweetest  music  of  earth,  all  the  more  perfect  when 
most  broken  and  incoherent ;  and  Hunting,  with  all 
his  coolness  and  precision  in  Wall  Street,  was  excess 
ively  nervous  and  unhappy  in  his  phraseology  upon 
one  occasion,  and  tremblingly  glad  to  get  any  terms 
from  the  girl  who  seemed  a  child  beside  him.  Annie 
would  not  permit  an  engagement  to  take  place. 
Hunting  was  a  distant  relative.  She  had  always 
liked  him  very  much,  but  was  not  sure  she  loved 
him.  She  was  extremely  reluctant  to.  leave  her 
father  and  not  ready  for  a  speedy  marriage  ;  so  she 
frankly  told  him  that  he  had  no  rival,  nor  was  there 
a  prospect  of  any,  but  she  would  not  bind  him,  nor 
permit  herself  to  be  bound  at  that  time.  If  they 
were  fated  for  each  other  the  way  would  eventually 
be  made  perfectly  clear. 

He  was  quite  content,  especially  as  Mr.  Walton 
gave  his  Thearty  approval  to  the  match,  and  he  re 
garded  the  understanding  as  a  virtual  engagement. 
He  wanted  Annie  to  wear  the  significant  ring,  saying 
that  he  would  not  look  upon  it  as  binding,  but  she 
would  not. 

Nearly  two  years  had  passed,  and  while  she  put 
him  off,  she  had  satisfied  him  that  he  was  steadily 


156  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

gaining  the  place  that  he  wished  to  possess  in  her  af 
fections.  He  was  gifted  with  much  tact  and  did  not 
press  his  suit,  but  quietly  acted  as  if  the  matter 
were  really  settled,  and  it  were  only  a  question  of 
time.  Annie  had  also  come  to  feel  in  the  same  way, 
She  did  not  see  such  a  very  great  deal  of  him,  though 
he  wrote  regularly  and  his  letters  were  admirable. 
He  became  her  ideal  man  and  dwelt  in  her  imagina 
tion  as  a  demi-god.  To  the  practical  mind  of  this 
American  girl  his  successes  in  the  vast  and  compli 
cated  transactions  of  business  were  as  grand  as  the 
achievements  of  any  hero.  Her  father  had  been  a 
merchant  and  she  inherited  a  respect  for  the  calling. 
Her  father  also  often  assured  her  that  her  lover  bade 
fair  to  lead  in  commercial  circles. 

"  Hunting  had  both  nerve  and  prudence,"  he 
was  wont  to  say ;  and  to  impetuous  Annie  these 
qualities,  combined  with  Christian  principles,  formed 
her  very  ideal  man. 

Hunting  took  great  pains  not  to  undeceive  her 
as  to  his  character,  and  indeed,  with  the  infatuation 
of  his  class,  hoped  that  when  he  had  amassed  the 
fortune  that  glittered  ever  just  before  him,  he  could 
assume  in  some  princely  mansion,  the  princely, 
knightly  soul  with  which  she  had  endowed  him. 

So  he  did  not  press  matters.  Indeed  in  his  rapid 
accumulation  of  money  he  scarcely  wished  any  inter 
ruption,  and  Annie  thought  all  the  more  of  him  that 
he  was  not  dawdling  around  making  love  half  the 
time.  Also,  there  was  less  danger  of  disenchanting 
her  by  his  presence,  for  woman's  perception  is  quick. 


INTERPRETING   CHESTNUT  BURRS.          157 

But  now  she  inwardly  contrasted  her  strong,  mas 
terful  knight,  "  sans  peur  et  reproach  "  as  she  be 
lieved,  with  the  enfeebled,  shrunken  man  at  her 
side.  Gregory  suffered  dreadfully  by  the  compar 
ison.  Thu  worm-eaten  chestnut  seemed  truly  em 
blematic,  and  in  spite  of  herself  her  face  lighted 
up,  with  exultation  and  joy  that  the  man  of  her 
choice  was  a  man  and  not  the  sin-marred  creature 
upon  whom  she  could  not  lean  even  for  physical 
support. 

Gregory  caught  her  expression  and  said  quickly: 

"Your  face  is  full  of  sudden  gleams.  Tell  me 
what  you  are  thinking  about." 

She  blushed  deeply  in  the  consciousness  of  her 
thoughts,  but  after  a  moment  said  : 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  the  confessional." 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  saying,  "  I  wish  you 
did  and  I  were  your  father  confessor." 

"  She  replied  laughing,  "  You  are  neither  old  nor 
good  enough.  If  I  were  of  that  faith  I  would  require 
one  a  great  deal  older  and  better  than  myself.  But 
here  we  are  at  our  second  tree  which  Jeff  has  just 
finished.  I  am  going  to  be  a  child  again  and  gather 
nuts  as  before.  I  hope  you  will  follow  suit,  and 
not  stand  leaning  against  the  tree  laughing  at  me." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"A  WELL-MEANIN'  MAN." 

HPHE  western  horizon  vied  with  the  autumn  foli 
age  as  at  last  they  turned  their  steps  home 
ward.  Their  path  led  out  upon  the  main  road  some 
distance  above  the  house,  and,  laden  with  the  spoils 
that  would  greatly  diminish  the  squirrels'  hoard  for 
the  coming  winter,  they  sauntered  along  slowly, 
both  from  a  sense  of  weariness  arid  leisure. 

They  soon  reached  the  cottage  of  the  old  lame 
man  who  had  fired  such  a  broadside  of  hard  words 
at  Walter  as  he  stood  oil  the  fence  opposite.  With 
a  crutch  under  one  arm  and  leaning  on  his  gate, 
Daddy  Tuggar  seemed  awaiting  them,  and  secured 
their  attention  by  the  laconic  salutation  : 

"  Evenin'  !  " 

"  Why,  Daddy,"  exclaimed  Annie,  coming  quickly 
toward  him.  "  I  am  real  glad  to  see  you  so  spry 
and  well.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  getting 
young  again  ;  "  and  she  shook  the  old  man's  hand 
heartily. 

*  Now  don't  praise  my  old  grave-yard  of  a  body. 
Miss  Annie.  My  speret  is  pert  enough,  but  it's  all 
buried  up  in  this  old  clumsy,  half-dead  carcass.  The 
worms  will  close  their  mortgage  on  it  pretty  soon." 


A    WELL-MEANIN'   MAN.' 


159 


"  But  they  haven't  a  mortgage  on  your  soul," 
said  Annie  in  a  low  tone.  "  Give  that  to  your 
Saviour  every  day,  as  I  told  you." 

"  Now  bless  you,  Miss  Annie,  but  it  takes  you  to 
put  in  a  *  word  in  season.'  The  Lord  knows  I'm  a 
well-meanin'  man,  but  I  can't  seem  to  get  much 
furder.  I've  had  an  awful  '  fall  from  grace,'  my  wife 
says.  I  did  try  to  stop  swearin',  but  that  chap 
there—" 

"  Oh,  excuse  me,"  interrupted  Annie.  "  Mr. 
Gregory,  this  is  our  friend  and  neighbor  Mr.  Tug- 
gar.  I  was  under  the  impression  that  you  were 
acquainted,"  she  added,  with  a  mischievous  look  at 
Walter. 

"  We  are.  I  have  heard  this  gentleman  before," 
he  replied  with  a  wry  face.  "Pardon  the  interrup 
tion,  Mr.  Tuggar,  and  please  go  on  with  your  ex 
planation." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  owe  you  a  'pology.  I'm  a"  well- 
meanin'  man,  and  if  I  do  any  one  a  wrong  I'm  willin* 
to  own  it  up  aftd  do  the  square  thing.  But  I  meant 
right  by  you  and  I  meant  right  by  John  Walton 
when  I"  thought  you  was  stealin'  his  apples.  I 
couldn't  hit  yer  with  a  stun  and  knock  yer  off  the 
fence,  as  I  might  a  dozen  years  ago,  so  I  took  the 
next  hardest  thing  I  could  lay  hands  on.  If  I'd 
known  that  you  was  kinder  one.  of  the  family  my 
words  would  have  been  rolls  of  butter." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Tuggar,  it  has  turned  out  very  well, 
for  /  would  rather  you  had  fired  what  you  did  than 
either  stones  or  butter.'"' 


l6o  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

11  Now  my  wife  would  say  that  that  speech 
showed  you  was  '  totally  depraved.'  And  this  brings 
me  back  to  my  l  fall  from  grace/  Now,  yer  see,  to 
please  my  wife  some  and  Miss  Eulie  more,  I  was 
tryin'  cussed  hard  to  stop  swearin' — ' 

"  Didn't  you  try  a  little  for  my  sake,  too  ?  "  inter 
rupted  Annie. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  child.  I  don't  have  to  try 
when  you're  around,  for  I  don't  think  swearin'. 
Most  folks  rile  me  and  I  get  a  thinkin'  swearin',  and 
then  'fore  I  know  it  busts  right  out.  You  could 
take  the  wickedest  cuss  livin'  to  heaven  in  spite  of 
himself  if  you  would  stay  right  by  him  all  the  time." 

"  I  would  '  rile  '  you,  too,  if  I  were  with  you  long, 
ror  I  get  '  riled  '  myself  sometimes." 

"  Do  you,  now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Tuggar,  looking  at 
her  admiringly.  "  Well,  now,  I'm  mighty  glad  to 
hear  it." 

"  Oh,  Daddy !  glad  to  hear  that  I  do  wrong  ?  " 

"  Can't  help  it,  Miss  Annie.  I  kinder  like  to 
know  you're  a  little  bit  of  a  sinner.  ,/Tain't  often  I 
meet  with  a  sinner,  and  I  kind  o'  like  'em.  My  wife 
says  she's  a  *  great  sinner,'  but  she  means  she's  a 
great  saint.  'Twouldn't  do  for  me  to  tell  her  she's 
a  *  sinner.'  Then  Miss  Eulie  says  she's  a  *  great  sin 
ner,'  and  between  you  and  me  that's  the  only  fib  I 
ever  caught  Miss  Eulie  in.  Law  sakes  !  there's  no 
more  sin  in  Miss  Eulie's  heart  than  there  is  specks 
of  dirt  on  that  little  -white  ruff  she  wears  about  her 
neck  that  looks  like  the  snow  we  had  last  April 
around  the  white  hyacinths.  She's  kind  of  a  half 


"A    WELL-MEANIN*  MAN."  161 

speret  anyhow.  She  makes  me  think  of  the  white  po 
sies  that  come  up  out  of  the  dirt,  and  yet  one  would 
think  they  had  nothin'  to  do  with  the  black  stuff. 

"  Now  your  goodness,  Miss  Annie,  is  another 
kind.  Your  cheeks  are  so  red,  and  eyes  so  black, 
and  arms  so  round  and  fat— ^I've  seen  'em  when  you 
was  over  here  a-beatin'  up  good  things  for  the  old 
man — that  you  make  me  think  of  the  red  and  pink 
posies.  I  kinder  think  you  might  be  a  little  bit  of  a 
sinner — just  enough,  you  know,  to  make  you  under 
stand  how  I  and  him  there  can  be  mighty  big  ones, 
and  not  be  too  hard  on  us  for  it." 

"  Mr.  Tuggar,  you  are  the  man  of  all  others  to 
plead  my  cause." 

"  Now  look  here,  young  gentleman,  you  must  do 
yer  own  pleadin'.  It  would  be  a  '  sinful  waste  of 
time  '  though,  as  my  wife  would  say,  eh,  Miss  Annie? 
I  never  had  no  luck  at  pleadin'  but  once,  and  that 
was  the  worst  luck  of  all." 

Annie's  face  might  well  suggest  "  red  posies  " 
during  the  last  remarks,  and  its  expression  was  di 
vided  between  a  frown  and  a  laugh. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand,"  continued 
Daddy  Tuggar,  straightening  himself  up  with  dig 
nity,  and  addressing  Walter,  "  that  I'm  not  a  mean 
cuss.  All  who  know  me  know  I'm  a  well-meanin' 
man.  I  try  to  do  as  I'd  be  done  by.  If  I'm  going 
through  a  man's  field  and  find  his  bars  down,  so 
the  cattle  would  get  in  the  corn,  I'd  put  e'm 
up-" 

"  Yes,  Daddy,  that  is  what  you  always  say,"  in 


1 62  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

terrupted  Annie,  "  but  you  can't  go  through  the 
fields  any  more  and  put  up  bars.  The  Lord  wants 
you  to  try  and  do  the  duties  that  belong  to  your 
present  state." 

"  But  I've  got  the  speret  to  put  up  a  man's  bars, 
and  it's  all  the  same  as  if  I  did  put  'em  up,"  answered 
the  old  man  with  some  irritation.  "  Miss  Eulie  and 
the  rest  of  yer  is  allers  sayin'  we  must  have  the 
speret  of  willingness  to  give  up  the  hull  world  and  suf 
fer  martyrdom  on  what  looks  in  the  picture  like  a  big 
gridiron.  She  says  we  must  have  the  speret  of  them 
who  was  cold  and  hungry  and  the  lions  eat  up  and 
was  sawn  in  two  pieces  and  had  an  awful  time  gen 
erally  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord,  and  that's  the  way 
the  Christians  manage  it  now-a-days.  My  wife  gets 
all  the  money  she  can  and  keeps  it,  but  she  says  she 
has  the  speret  to  give  up  the  hull'  world.  I  wish 
she'd  give  up  enough  of  it  to  keep  me  in  good  ter- 
backer.  Mighty  few  nice  bits  would  the  old  man  git 
wasn't  it  for  you  and  Miss  Eulie.  Then  I  watch  the 
good  people  goin'  to  church.  'Mazin'  few  out  wet 
Sundays.  But  no  doubt  they've  all  got  the  l  speret' 
to  go.  They  would  jist  as  lief  be  sawn  in  two  pieces 
1  in  speret '  as  not,  if  they  can  only  sleep  late  in  the 
mornin'  and  have  a  good  dinner  and  save  their  Sun- 
day-go-to-meetin'  clothes  from  gettin'  wet.  It  must 
be  so,  or  the  Lord  gets  mighty  little  worship  out  of 
the  church  on  rainy  Sundays.  If  it  wasn't  for  you 
and  Miss  Eulie  I  don't  know  what  would  become  of 
the  old  man  and  all  the  rest  of  the  sick  and  feeble 
folks  around  here.  I  ask  my  wife  why  she  doesn't 


"A    WELL-MEANIN*   MAN."  163 

go  to  see  'em  sometimes.  She  says  she  has  the 
'speret  to  go,'  but  she  hasn't  the  time  and  strength. 
So  I  have  the  '  speret '  to  put  up  a  man's  bars  while  I 
sit  here  and  smoke,  and  what's  more,  Miss  Annie,  I 
did  it  as  long  as  I  was  able." 

"  You  did  indeed,  Daddy,  and,  though  uninten 
tionally,  you  have  given  me  a  good  lesson.  We  lit 
tle  deserve  to  be  mentioned  with  those  Christians 
who  in  olden  times  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things,  and 
life  itself." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  child,  I  didn't  mean  you. 
Whether  you've  got  the  speret  to  do  a  thing  or  not 
yer  allers  do  it,  and  in  a  sweet,  natteral  way,  as  if 
you  couldn't  help  it.  When  my  wife  enters  on  a 
good  work  it  makes  me  think  of  a  funeral.  I'm 
'mazin'  .glad  you  didn't  live  in  old  times,  'cause  the 
lions  would  have  got  you  sure  'nuff.  Though,  if  it 
had  to  be,  I  would  kinder  liked  to  have  been  the 
lion  " — and  the  old  man's  eyes  twinkled  humorously, 
while  Gregory  laughed  heartily. 

"  Oh,  Daddy  Tuggar,"  exclaimed  Annie,  "  that  is 
the  most  awful  compliment  I  ever  received.  If  you, 
with  your  spirit,  were  the  only  lion  I  had  to  deal 
with,  I  would  never  become  a  martyr.  You  shall 
have  some  jelly  instead,  and  now  I  must  go  home  in 
order  to  have  it  made  before  Sunday." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Gregory.  "  You  were 
about  to  tell  us  how  I  caused  you  to  l  fall  from 
grace.' ' 

"  So  I  was,  so  I  was,  and  I've  been  goin'  round 
Robin  Hood's  barn  ever  since.  Well,  I'd  been 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

holdin'  in  on  my  swearin'  a  long  time,  'cause  I  prom- 
ised  Miss  Eulie  I'd  stop  if  I  could.  My  wife  said  I 
was  in  quite  a  '  hopeful  state/  while  I  felt  all  the 
time  as  ii  I  was  sort  of  bottled  up  and  the  cork 
might  fly  out  any  minute.  Miss  Eulie,  she  came 
and  rejoiced  over  me  that  mornin',  and  my  wife  she 
looked  so  solemn  (she  allers  does  when  she  says  she 
feels  glad)  that  somehow  I  got  nervous,  and  then 
my  wffe  went  to  the  store  and  didn't  get  the 
kind  of  terbacker  I  sent  for,  and  I  knew  the  cork 
was  going  to  fly  out.  I  was  smokin'  and  in  a  sort  of 
a  doze,  when  the  first  thing  I  knowed  a  big  stun 
rolled  into  the  road,  and  there  I  saw  a  strange  chap, 
as  I  thought,  a-stealin'  John  Walton's  apples  and 
knockin'  down  the  fence.  If  they'd  a  been  my 
apples  I  might  have  held  in  a  little  longer,  but  John 
Walton's — it  was  like  a  dam  givin'  way." 

"  It  was,  indeed,"  said  Walter  significantly.  "  It 
was  like  several." 

"  I  knowed  my  wife  heard  me,  and  if  she'd  come 
right  out  and  said,  '  You've  made  a  cussed  old  fool 
of  yourself,'  I  think  I  would  have  felt  better.  I 
knowed  she  was  goin*  to  speak  about  it  and  lament 
over  it,  and  I  wanted  her  to  do  it  right  away  ;  but 
she  put  it  off  and  put  it  off,  and  kept  me  on  pins  and 
needles  for  ever  so  long.  At  last  she  said  with  solemn 
joy,  '  Thomas  Tuggar,  I  told  Miss  Eulie  I  feared  you 
was  still  in  a  state  of  natur — and,  alas  !  I  am  right — 
but  how  she'll  mourn,  how  great  will  be  her  disap 
pointment,  when  she  hears  ' — and  then  I  fell  into  a 
'  state  of  natur  '  agin.  Now,  Miss  Annie,  if  the 


"A    WELL-MEAN1N'  MAN,"  16$ 

Lord,  Miss  Eulie,  and  you  all  could  only  see  I'm  a 
well-meanin'  man,  and  that  I  don't  mean  no  disre 
spect  to  anybody ;  that  it's  only  one  of  my  old, 
rough  ways  that  I  learned  from  my  father — and 
mother  too,  for  that  matter,  I'm  sorry  to  say — and 
have  followed  so  long  that  it's  bred  in  the  bone,  it 
would  save  a  heap  of  worry.  One  must  have  some 
way  of  lettin'  off  steam.  Now  my  wife  she  purses 
up  her  mouth  so  tight  you  couldn't  stick  a  pin  in  it 
when  she's  riled.  I  often  say  to  her,  '  Do  explode 
Open  your  mouth  and  let  it  all  out  at  once.'  But 
she  says  it  is  not  becoming  for  such  as  her  ter  '  ex 
plode.'  But  it  will  come  out  all  the  same,  only  it's 
like  one  of  yer  cold  northeast,  drizzlin',  fizzlin'  rain 
storms.  And  now  I've  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,  1 
hope  you'll  kinder  smooth  matters  over  with  Miss 
Eulie ;  and  I  hope  you,  sir,  will  just  think  of  what  I 
said  as  spoken  to  a  stranger  and  not  a  friend  of  the 
family." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Mr.  Tuggar.  I  hope  we 
shall  be  the  best  of  friends.  I  am  coming  over  to 
have  a  smoke  with  you  and  see  if  I  can't  fill  your 
pipe  with  some  tobacco  that  is  like  us  both,  '  in  a 
state  of  natur.' ' 

A  white-faced  woman  appeared  at  the  door,  and, 
courtesying  low  to  Miss  Walton,  called  : 

"  Husband,  it's  too  late  for  you  to  be  out ;  I  fear 
your  health  will  suffer." 

"  She's  bound  up  in  me,  you  see,"  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  curious  grimace.  "  Nothing  but  the 


1 66  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

reading  of  my  will  will  ever  comfort  her  when  I 
die." 

"  Daddy,  Daddy,"  said  Annie,  reproachfully, 
"  have  charity.  Good  night ;  I  will  send  you  some 
thing  nice  for  to-morrow." 

An  amused  smile  lingered  on  Gregory's  face  as 
they  pursued  their  way  homeward,  now  in  the  early 
twilight ;  but  Annie's  aspect  was  almost  one  of  sad 
ness.  After  a  little  he  said  : 

"  Well,  he  is  one  of  the  oddest  specimens  of  hu 
manity  I  ever  met." 

She  did  not  immediately  reply,  and  he,  looking 
at  her,  caught  her  expression. 

"  Why  is  your  face  so  clouded,  Miss  Annie  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  You  are  not  given  to  Mrs.  Tuggar's  style 
of  '  solemn  joy  '  ?  " 

{'What  a  perplexing  mystery  life  is  after  all!" 
she  replied,  absently.  "  I  really  think  poor  old 
Daddy  Tuggar  speaks  truly.  He  is  a  '  well-mean 
ing'  man,  but  he  and  many  others  remind  me  of  one 
not  having  the  slightest  ear  for  music  trying  to  catch 
a  difficult  harmony." 

"  Why  is  the  harmony  so  difficult  ?  "  asked  Wal 
ter,  bitterly. 

"  Perhaps  it  were  better  to  ask,  Why  has  human 
ity  so  disabled  itself?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it  matters  much  how  you  put  the 
case.  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing.  Something  is 
required  of  us  beyond  our  strength.  The  idea  of 
punishing  that  old  man  for  being  what  he  is,  when 
in  the  first  place  he  inherited  evil  from  his  parents 


"A    WELL-MEANIN*  MAN:  ify 

and  then  was  taught  it  by  precept  and  example.  I 
think  he  deserves  more  credit  than  blame." 

"  The  trouble  is,  Mr.  Gregory,  evil  carries  its  own 
punishment  along  with  it  every  day.  But  I  admit 
that  we  are  surrounded  with  mystery  on  every  side. 
Humanity,  left  to  itself,  is  a  hopeless  problem.  But 
one  thing  is  certain  :  we  are  not  responsible  for  ques 
tions  beyond  our  ken.  Moreover,  many  things  that 
were  complete  mysteries  to  me  as  a  child  are  now 
plain,  and  I  ever  hope  to  be  one  of  God's  little  chil 
dren,  taught  of  him  something  new  every  day.  You 
and  I  at  least  have  much  to  be  grateful  for  in  the 
fact  that  we  neither  inherited  evil  nor  were  taught  it 
in  any  such  degree  as  our  poor  neighbor." 

"And  you  quietly  prove,  Miss  Walton,  by  your 
last  remark,  that  I  am  much  more  worthy  of  blame 
than  your  '  poor  old  neighbor.'  " 

"  Then  I  said  more  than  I  meant,"  she  answered, 
eagerly.  "  It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  or  condemn  any 
one.  The  thought  in  my  mind  was  how  favored  we 
had  been  in  our  parentage — our  start  in  existence, 
as  it  were." 

"  But  suppose  one  loses  that  vantage  ground  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  supp'ose  anything  of  the 
kind." 

"  But  one  can  lose  it  utterly.^' 

"  I  fear  some  can  and  do.  But  why  dwell  on  a 
subject  so  unutterably  sad  and  painful  ?  You  have 
not  lost  it,  and,  as  I  said  before  to-day,  I  will  not 
dwell  upon  the  disagreeable  any  more  than  I  can 
help." 


1 68  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR 

"  Your  opinion  of  me  is  poor  enough  already, 
Miss  Walton,  so  I,  too,  will  drop  the  subject." 

They  had  now  reached  the  house  and  did  ample 
justice  to  the  supper  awaiting. 

Between  meals  people  can  be  very  sentimental, 
morbid,  and  tragical.  They  can  stare  at  God's  deep 
mysteries  and  shudder  or  scoff,  sigh  or  rejoice,  ac 
cording  to  their  moral  conditions.  They  can  even 
grow  cold  with  dread,  as  did  Gregory,  realizing  that 
he  had  **  lost  his  vantage  ground,"  his  good  start  in 
the  endless  career.  "  She  is  steering  across  unknown 
seas  to  a  peaceful,  happy  shore.  I  am  drifting  on 
those  same  mysterious  waters  I  know  not  whither," 
he  thought. 

,But  a  few  moments  after  entering  the  cheerfully 
lighted  dining-room  he  was  giving  his  whole  soul  to 
muffins. 

These  homely  and  ever-recurring  duties  and 
pleasures  of  life  have  no  doubt  saved  multitudes 
from  madness.  It  would  almost  seem  that  they  have 
also  been  the  innocent  causes  of  the  destruction  of 
many.  There  are  times  when  the  mind  is  al 
most  evenly  balanced  between  good  and  evil.  Some 
powerful  appeal  or  startling  providence  has  aroused 
the  sleeping  spirit,  or  some  vivifying  truth  has 
pierced  the  armor  of  indifference  or  prejudice, 
and  quivered  like  an  arrow  in  the  soul,  and  the  man 
remembers  that  he  is  a  man  and  not  a  brute  that 
perishes.  But  just  then  the  dinner-bell  sounded. 
After  the  several  courses,  any  physician  can  predict 
how  the  powers  of  that  human  organization  must  of 


"A    WELL-MEANIN'  MAN."  169 

necessity  be  employed  the  next  few  hours,  and  the 
partially  awakened  soul  is  like  one  who  starts  up  out 
of  a  doze  and  sleeps  again.  If  the  spiritual  nature 
had  only  become  sufficiently  aroused  to  realize  the 
situation,  life  might  have  been  secured.  Thought 
and  feeling  in  some  emergencies  will  do  more  than 
the  grandest  pulpit  eloquence  quenched  by  a  Sun 
day  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
Miss  WALTON'S  DREAM. 

*T^HE  hickory  fire  blazed  cheerily  in  the  parlor 
after  tea,  and  all  drew  gladly  around  its  wel 
come  blaze.  But  even  the  delights  of  roasting  chest 
nuts  from  the  abundant  spoils  of  the  afternoon, 
could  not  keep  the  little  heads  of  the  children  from 
drooping  early. 

Walter  was  greatly  fatigued,  and  soon  went  to  his 
room  also. 

Sabbath  morning  dawned  dimly  and  uncertainly, 
but  by  the  time  they  had  gathered  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  a  northeast  rain-storm  had  set  in  with  a  driv 
ing  gale. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  go  to  church  '  in  speret ' 
this  morning,  as  Mr.  Tuggar  would  say,"  said  V^ilter 
addressing  Annie. 

"  If  I  were  on  the  sick  list  I  should,  but  I  have 
no  such  excuse." 

"  You  seriously  do  not  mean  to  ride  two  miles  in 
such  a  storm  as  this?" 

"  No,  not  seriously,  but  very  cheerfully  and 
gladly." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  required  of  you,  Miss  Wai- 


MISS    WALTON'S  DREAM.  \>j\ 

ton.  Even  your  Bible  states,  '  I  will  have  mercy 
and  not  sacrifice.'  ' 

"  The  '  sacrifice  '  in  my  case  would  be  in  staying 
home.  I  like  to  be  out  in  a  storm,  and  have  plenty 
of  warm  blood  to  resist  its  chilling  effects.  But  even 
were  it  otherwise,  what  hardship  is  there  in  my 
wrapping  myself  up  in  a  waterproof,  and  riding  a  few 
miles  to  a  comfortable  church?  I  shall  come  back 
with  a  grand  appetite,  and  a  double  zest  for  the 
wood  fire." 

"  But  it  is  nof  fair  on  the  poor  horses.  They 
have  no  waterproofs  or  wood  fires." 

"  I  think  I  am  not  indifferent  to  the  comfort  of 
dumb  animals,  and  though  I  drive  a  good  deal, 
father  can  tell  you  I  am  not  a  *  whip.'  But  of  all 
shams  to  me  the  most  transparent  is  this  tenderness 
for  one's  self  and  the  horses  on  Sunday.  I  am  often 
out  in  stormy  weather  during  the  week,  and  meet 
plenty  of  people  on  the  road.  The  farmers  drive  to 
the  village  on  rainy  days  because  they  can  neither 
plough,  sow,  nor  reap.  But  on  even  a  cloudy  Sab 
bath,  with  the  faintest  prospect  of  rain,  there  is  but 
one  text  in  the  Bible  for  them  :  '  A  righteous  man 
regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast.'  People. attend  par 
ties,  the  opera,  and  places  of  amusement  no  matter 
how  bad  the  night.  It  is  a  miserable  pretence  to 
say  that  the  weather  keeps  the  majority  home  from 
church.  It  is  only  an  excuse  for  staying  away.  I 
would  have  a  great  deal  more  respect  for  them  if 
they  would  say  frankly,  '  We  would  rather  sleep,  read 
a  novel,  dawdle  around  en  d^shabill^  and  gossip/ 


172 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


Half  the  time  when  they  say  it's  too  stormy  to  ven 
ture  out  (oh  !  the  heroism  of  our  Christian  age !) 
they  should  go  and  thank  God  for  the  rain  that  is 
providing  food  for  them  and  theirs.  . 

"  Arid  granting  that  our  Christian  duties  do  in 
volve  some  risk  and  hardship,  does  not  the  Bible 
ever  speak  o.f  life  as  a  warfare,  a  struggle,  an  agoniz 
ing  for  success  ?  Do  not  armies  often  fight  and 
march  in  the  rain  and  dumb  beasts  share  their  ex 
posure  ?  There  is  more  at  stake  in  this  battle.  In 
ancient  times  God  commanded  the  bloody  sacrifice 
of  innumerable  animals  for  the  sake  of  moral  and 
religious  effect.  Moral  and  religious  effect  are  worth 
just  as  much  now.  Nothing  can  excuse  wanton 
cruelty.  But  the  soldier  who  spurs  his  horse  against 
the  enemy,  and  the  sentinel  who  keeps  his  out  in  a 
winter  storm,  are  not  cruel.  But  many  farmers  about 
here  will  over-work  and  under-feed  all  the  week, 
and  on  Sunday  talk  about  being  '  merciful  to  their 
beasts.'  There  won't  be  over  twenty-five  at  church 
to-day,  and  the  Christian  heroes,  the  sturdy  yeo 
manry  of  the  church,  will  be  dozing  and  grumbling 
in  chimney  corners.  The  languid  half-heartedness 
of  the  church  discourages  me  more  than  all  the  evil 
in  the  world." 

Miss  Walton  stated  her  views  in  a  quiet  under 
tone  of  indignation  and  not  so  much  in  answer  to 
Gregory,  as  a  protest  against  a  style  of  action  utterly 
repugnant  to  her  earnest,  whole-souled  nature.  As 
Walter  -saw  the  young  girl's  face  light  up  with  the 
will  and  purpose  to  be  loyal  to  a  noble  cause,  his 


MISS   WALTON'S  DREAM. 

own  aimless,  self-pleasing  life  seemed  petty  and  con 
temptible  indeed,  and  again  he  had  that  painful 
sense  of  humiliation  which  Miss  Walton  unwittingly 
caused  him  ;  but  as  was  often  his  way,  he  laughed 
the  matter  off  by  saying  : 

"  There  is  no  need  of  my  going  to  church  to-day, 
for  I  have  had  my  sermon,  and  a  better  one  than 
you  wilt  hear.  Still,  such  is  the  effect  of  your  hom 
ily  that  I  am  inclined  to  ask  you  to  take  me  with 
you." 

Annie's  manner  changed  instantly,  and  she  smil 
ingly  answered  : 

"  You  will  find  an  arm-chair  before  a  blazing  fire 
in  your  room  up  stairs,  and  an  arm-chair  before  a 
blazing  fire  in  the  parlor,  and  you  can  vacillate 
between  them  at  your  pleasure." 

"  As  a  vacillating  man  should,  perhaps  you  might 
add." 

"  I  add  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  Will  you  never  let  me  go  to  church  with  you 
again  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  after  what  you  said,  any  pleasant 
day." 

"  Why  can't  I  have  the  privilege  of  being  a  mar 
tyr  as  well  as  yourself?  " 

"  I'm  not  a  martyr.  I  would  far  rather  go  out 
to-day  than  stay  at  home." 

"  It  will  be  very  lonely  without  you." 

"  Oh,  you  are  the  martyr  then,  after  all.  I  hope 
you  will  have  sufficient  fortitude  to  endure,  and  doze 
comfortably  during  the  two  hours  of  my  absence/ 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Now  you  are  satirical  on  Sunday,  Miss  Walton. 
Let  that  burden  your  conscience.  I'm  going  to  ask 
your  father  if  I  may  go." 

"  Of  course  you  will  act  your  pleasure,"  said  Mr. 
Walton,  "  but  I  think,  in  your  present  state  of 
health,  Annie  has  suggested  the  wiser  and  safer 
thing  to  do." 

"  I  should  probably  be  ill  on  your  hands  if  I 
went,  so  I  submit  ;  but  I  wish  you  to  take  note, 
Miss  Walton,  that  I  have  the  '  speret  to  go.'  " 

The  arm-chairs  were  cosey  and  comfortable,  and 
the  hickory  wood  turned,  as  is  its  wont,  into  glowing 
and  fragrant  coals,  but  the  house  grew  chill  and 
empty  the  moment  Annie  left.  Though  Mr.  Walton 
and  fliss  Eulie  accompanied  her,  their  absence  was 
rather  welcome,  but  he  felt  sure  that  Annie  could 
have  beguiled  the  heavy-footed  hours. 

"  She  has  some  unexplained  power  of  making  me 
forget  my  miserable  self,"  he  muttered. 

And  yet,  left  to  himself,  he  had  now  nothing  to 
do  but  think,  and  a  fearful  time  he  had  of  it,  lower 
ing  at  the  fire,  in  the  arm-chair,  from  which  he 
scarcely  stirred. 

"  I  have  lost  my  vantage  ground,"  he  groaned — 
"  lost  it  utterly.  I  am  not  even  a  '  well-meaning 
man.'  I  purpose  evil  against  this  freshest,  purest 
spirit  I  have  ever  known  since  in  this  house  I  looked 
into  my  mother's  eyes.  I  am  worse  than  the  wild- 
Arab  of  the  desert.  I  have  eaten  salt  with  them  ;  I 
have  partaken  of  their  generous  hospitality,  given  so 
cordially  for  the  sake  of  one  that  is  dead,  and  in 


MISS    WALTON'S  DREAM.  ^5 

return  have  wounded  their  most  sacred  feelings,  and 
now  propose  to  prove  the  daughter  a  creature  that  I 
can  go  away  and  despise.  Instead  of  being  glad 
that  there  is  one  in  the  world  noble  and  good — even 
though  by  accident ;  instead  of  noting  with  pleasure 
that  every  sweet  flower  has  not  become  a  weed,  I 
wish  to  drag  her  down  to  my  own  wretched  level,  or 
else  I  would  have  her  exhibit  sufficient  weakness  to 
show  that  she  would  go  as  far  as  she  was  tempted  to 
go.  A  decent  devil  could  hardly  wish  her  worse. 
I  would  like  to  see  her  show  the  same  spirit  that 
animates  Miss  Belle  St.  Clair  of  New  York,  or  Mrs. 
Grobb,  my  former  adored  Miss  Bently — creatures 
that  I  despise  as  I  do  myself,  and  what  more  could 
I  say  ?  If  I  could  only  cause  her  to  show  some  of 
their  characteristics  the  reproach  of  her  life  would 
pass  away,  and  I  should  be  confirmed  in  my  belief 
that  humanity's  unutterable  degradation  is  its  mis 
fortune,  and  the  blame  should  rest  elsewhere  than 
on  uSvVHoAv  absurd  to  blame  water  for  running 
down  hill.  Give  man  or  woman  half  a  chance,  that 
is,  before  habits  are  fixed,  and  they  follow  faster 
down  the  inclined  moral  plane.  And  yet  the  plague 
of  it  is,  this  seeming  axiom  does  not  seem  to  satisfy 
me.  What  business  has  my  conscience,  with  a  lash 
of  scorpion  stings,  to  punish  me  this  and  every  day 
that  I  permit  myself  to  think  ?  Did  I  not  try  for 
years  to  be  better?  Did  I  not  resist  the  infernal 
gravitation,  and  yet  I  am  falling  still?  I  never  did 
anything  so  mean  and  low  before  as  I  am  doing  now. 
If  it  is  my  nature  to  do  evil,  why  should  I  not  do  it 


176  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

without  compunction  ?  And  as  I  look  downward — 
there  is  no  looking  forward  for  me — there  seems  no 
evil  thing  that  I  could  not  do  if  tempted  and  so 
inclined.  Here  in  this  home  of  my  childhood,  this 
sacred  atmosphere  that  my  mother  breathed,  I  would 
besmirch  the  character  of  an  as  yet  pure,  good  girl, 
with  a  nature  like  a  white  hyacinth  in  spring.  I  see 
the  vileness  of  the  act,  I  loathe  it,  and  yet  it  fasci 
nates  me,  and  I  have  no  power  to  resist.  Why 
should  a  stern,  condemning  voice  declare  in  the  re 
cesses  of  my  soul,  you  could  and  should  resist?  For 
years  I  have  been  daily  yielding  to*  temptation,  and 
conscience  as  often  pronounces  sentence  against  me. 
When  will  the  hateful  farce  cease  ?  Multitudes  ap 
pear  to  sin  without  thought  or  remorse.  Why  can 
not  I  ?  It's  my  mother's  doings  I  suppose.  A  plague 
upon  the  early  memories  of  this  place.  Will  they 
keep  me  upon  the  rack  forever  ?  " 

He  rose,  strode  up  and  down  the  parlor  and 
clenched  his  hands  in  passionate  protest 'against  him 
self,  his  destiny,  and  the  God  who  made  him. 

A  chillness,  resulting  partly  from  dread  and 
partly  from  the  wild  storm  raging  without,  caused 
him  to  heap  up  the  hearth  with  wood.  It  speedily 
leaped  into  flame,  and,  covering  his  face  with  his 
hands,  he  sat  cowering  before  it.  A  vain  but  fre 
quent  thought  recurred 'to  him  with  double  power. 

"Oh  that  I  could  cease  to  exist,  and  lose  this 
miserable  consciousness !  Oh  that,  like  this  wood, 
I  could  be  aflame  with  intense  passionate  life,  and 
then  lose  identity,  memory,  and  everything  that 


MISS    WALTON'S  DREAM.  177 

makes  me,  and  pass  into  other  forms.  Nay,  more, 
if  I  had  any  wish,  I  would  become  nothing  here  and 
now." 

The  crackling  of  flames  and  rush  of  wind  and 
rain  against  the  windows  had  caused  the  sound  of 
wheels,  and  a  light  step  in  the  room  to  be  unheard. 

He  was  aroused  by  hearing  Miss  Walton  ask : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  are  you  ill  ?" 

He  raised  his  woe-begone  face  to  hers,  and  saidy 
almost  irritably : 

"Yes — no — or  at  least  I  -am  as  well  as  I  ever 
expect  to.be,  and  perhaps  better."  Then  with  a 
sudden  impulse  he  asked,  "  Does  annihilation  seem 
such  a  dreadful  thing  to  you  ?  " 

"  What !  the  losing  of  an  eternity  of  keen  en 
joyment.  What  could  be  more  dreadful !  Really, 
Mr.  Gregory,  brooding  here  alone  has  not  been  good 
for  you.  Why  do  you  not  think  of  pleasant  things  ?  " 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  a  man  with  a  raging 
toothache  does  not  have  pleasant  sensations,"  he 
answered,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  I  admit  the  force  of  your  reply  though  I  do  not 
think  the  case  exactly  parallel.  The  mind  is  not  as 
helpless  as  the  body.  Still,  I  believe  it  is  true  that 
when  the  body  is  suffering  the  mind  is  apt  to  become 
the  prey  of  all  sorts  of  morbid  fancies,  and  you  do 
look  really  ill.  I  wish  I  could  give  you  some  of  my 
rampant  health  and  spirits  to-day.  Facing  the  Octo 
ber  storm  has  done  me  good  every  way,  and  I  am 
ravenous  for  dinner." 

He  looked  enviously  at  her  as  she  stood  before 
8* 


178  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

him,  with  her  waterproof,  still  covered  with  rain- 
drops,  partially  thrown  back  and  revealing  th*  out 
line  of  a  form  which,  though  not  stout,  was  sugges 
tive  of  health  and  strength.  She  seemed,  with  her 
warm  high  color,  like  a  hardy  flower  covered  with 
spray.  Instead  of  shrinking  feebly  and  delicately 
from  the  harsher  moods  of  nature,  and  coming  in 
pinched  and  shivering,  the  gale,  seemingly,  had  only 
quickened  the  blood  in  her  veins  and  all  the  wheels 
of  life. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  said,  with  a  glimmer  of  a 
smile,  "  do  you  know  that  you  are  very  different 
from  most  young  ladies  Pj^You  and  nature  evidently 
have  some  deep  secrets  between  you.  I  half  believe 
you  never  will  grow  old,  but  are  one  of  the  peren 
nials.  I  am  real  glad  you  have  come  home,  for  you 
seem  to  bring  a  little  of  yesterday's  sunshine  into  the 
dreary  house." 

As  they  returned  to  the  parlor  after  dinner,  Wal 
ter  said  :  "  Miss  Walton,  what  can  you  do  to  interest 
me  this  afternoon,  .for  I  am  devoured  with  ennui  ?  " 

She  turned  upon  him  rather  sharply  and  said : 

"  A  young  man  like  you  has  no  business  to  be 
'  devoured  with  ennui.'  Why  not  engage  in  some 
pursuit,  or  take  up  some  subject  that  will  interest 
you  and  stir  your  sluggish  pulse  ?  " 

With  a  touch  of  his  old  mock  gallantry  he  bowed 
and  said : 

"  In  you  I  see  just  the  subject,  and  am  delighted 
to  think  I'm  going  to  have  you  all  to  myself  this 
rainy  afternoon  ' 


MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM.  179 

With  a  half-vexed  laugh  and  somewhat  height 
ened  color  she  answered  : 

"  I  imagine  you  won't  have  me  all  to  yourself 
long." 

She  had  hardly  spoken  the  words  before  the 
children  bounded  in,  exclaiming: 

"  Now,  Aunt  Annie,  for  our  stories." 

"You  see,  Mr.  Gregory,  here  are  previous  and 
counter  claims  already." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  of  some  way  of  successfully  dis 
puting  them." 

14  It  would  be  difficult  to  find.  Well,  come  little 
kids,  we  will  go  into  the  sitting-room  and  not  dis 
turb  -Mr.  Gregory." 

"  Now,  I  protest  against  that,"  he  said.  "  You 
might  at  least  let  me  be  one  of  the  children." 

"  But  the  trouble  is  you  won't  be  one,  but  will 
sit  by  criticising  and  laughing  at  our  infantile  talk." 

"  Now  you  do  me  wrong.  I  will  be  as  good  as  I 
know  how,  and  if  you  knew  how  long  and  dreary  the 
day  is  you  would  not  refuse." 

She  looked  at  him  keenly  for  a  moment  and  then 
said  a  little  doubtfully,  "  Well,  I  will  try  for  once. 
Run  and  get  your  favorite  Sunday  books,  children." 

When  they  were  alone  he  asked  : 

"  How  can  you  permit  these  youngsters  to  be 
such  a  burden  on  you  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  a  burden,"  she  answered  quietly. 

"  But  a  nurse  could  take  care  of  them  and  keep 
them  quiet." 

"  If  their  father  and   mother  were  living  they 


l8o  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

would  not  think .'  keeping  them  quiet '  all  their  duty 
toward  them,  nor  do  I,  to  whom  they  were  left  as  a 
sacred  trust." 

"  That  awful  word  '  Duty '  rules  you,  Miss  Wal 
ton,  with  a  rod  of  iron." 

"  Do  I  seem  like  a  harshly  driven  slave  ?  "  she 
asked  smilingly. 

"  No,  and  I  cannot  understand  you." 

"  That  is  because  your  philosophy  of  life  is  wrong. 
You  still  belong  to  that  old  school  who  would  have 
it  that  sun,  moon,  and  stars  revolve  around  the  earth. 
But  here  are  the  books,  and  if  you  are  to  be  one  of 
the  children  you  must  do  as  I  bid  you — be  still  and 
listen." 

It  was  strange  to  Walter  how  content  he  was 
to  obey.  He  was  surprised  in  his  interest  in  the  old 
Bible  stories  told  in  childish  language,  and  as  Annie 
stopped  to  explain  a  point  or  answer  a  question,  he 
found  himself  listening  as  the  eager  little  boy  sitting 
on  the  floor  at  her  feet.  The  hackneyed  man  of 
the  world  could  not  understand  how  the  true,  simple 
language  of  nature,  like  the  little  brown  blossoms  of 
lichens,  has  a  beauty  and  power  of  its  own. 

At  the  same  time  he  had  a  growing  consciousness 
that  there  was  something  in  the  reader  also  which 
perhaps  mainly  held  his  interest.  It  was  pleasant  to 
listen  to  the  low,  musical  voice.  It  was  pleasant  to 
see  the  red  lips  drop  the  words  so  easily  yet  so  dis 
tinctly,  and  chief  of  all  was  a  consciousness  of  a  vital 
ized  presence  that  made  the  room  seem  full  when 


MISS  WAL  TON'S  DREAM.  i  g  l 

she  was  in  it,  and  empty  when  she  left,  though  all 
others  remained. 

He  really  shared  the  children's  regret  when  at 
last  she  said  : 

"  Now  I  am  tired,  and  must  go  up  stairs  and  rest 
awhile  before  supper,  after  which  we  will  have  some 
music.  You  can  go  in  the  sitting-room  and  look  at 
the  pictures  till  the  tea-bell  rings.  Mr.  Gregory, 
will  my  excuse  to  the  children  answer  for  you 
also  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  must,  though  I  have  no  pictures  to 
look  at." 

She  suddenly  appeared  to  change  her  mind,  and 
said  briskly : 

"  Come  sir,  what  you  need  is  work  for  others.  I 
have  read  to  you  and  you  ought  to  be  willing  to 
read  to  me.  If  you  please  I  will  rest  in  the  arm 
chair  here  instead  of  my  room." 

"  I  will  take  your  medicine,"  he  said  eagerly, 
"  without  a  wry  face,  though  an  indifferent  reader, 
while  I  think  you  are  a  remarkably  good  one  ;  and 
let  me  tell  you  it  is  one  of  the  rarest  accomplish 
ments  we  find.  You  shall  also  choose  the  book." 

"What  unaccountable  amiableness !  "  she  replied, 
laughing.  "  I  fear  I  shall  reward  you  by  going  to 
sleep." 

"  Very  well,  anything  so  I  am  not  left  alone 
again.  I  am  wretched  company  for  myself." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  for  my  sake  you  are  so  good,  aftei 
all." 

"  You  think  me  a  selfish  wretch,  Miss  Walton. ' 


1 82  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  think  you  are  like  myself,  capable  of  much 
improvement.  But  I  wish  to  rest,  and  you  must  not 
talk,  but  read.  There  is  the  Schonberg  Cotta  Family. 
I  have  been  over  it  two  or  three  times,  so  if  I  lose 
the  thread  of  the  story  it  does  not  matter." 

He  wheeled  the  arm-chair  up  to  the  fire  for  her, 
and  for  a  while  she  listened  with  interest;  but  at 
last  her  lids  drooped  and  soon  closed,  and  her  regu 
lar  breathing  showed  that  she  was  sleeping.  He  read 
in  lower  and  lower  monitone  lest  his  sudden  stopping 
should  awaken  her,  then  laid  down  his  book  and  read 
a  different  story  in  the  pure  young  face  turned  to 
ward  him. 

"  It  is  not  beautiful,"  he  thought,  "  but  it  is  a 
real  good  face.  I  would  not  be  attracted  toward  it 
in  a  thronged  and  brilliant  drawing-room.  I  might 
not  notice  it  on  Fifth  Avenue,  but  if  I  were  ill  and  in 
deep  trouble,  it  is  just  such  a  face  as  I  would  like  to 
see  bending  over  me.  Am  I  not  ill  and  in  deep 
trouble  ?  I  have  lost  my  health  and'  have  lost  my 
manhood.  What  worse  disasters  this  side  death  can 
I  experience.  Be  careful,  Walter  Gregory,  you  may 
be  breaking  the  one  clue  that  can  lead  you  out  of 
the  labyrinth.  You  may  be  seeking  to  palsy  the 
one  hand  that  can  help  you.  Mother  believed  in  a 
special  Providence.  Is  it  her  suggestion  that  now 
flashes  in  my  mind  that  God  in  mercy  has  brought 
me  to  this  place  of  sacred  memories,  and  given  me 
the  companionship  of  this  good  woman,  that  the 
bitter  waters  of  my  life  may  be  sweetened?  I  do 
not  know  from  whom  else  it  can  come. 


MISS  WAL  TON' S  DREA M.  1 5 3 

41  And  yet  the  infernal  fascination  of  evil  ?  I  can 
not — I  will  not  give  up  my  purpose  toward  her. 
Vain  dreams  !  Miss  Walton  nor  an  angel  of  light 
could  not  reclaim  me.  My  impetus  downward  is  too 
great.  I  am  like  Lucifer  after  he  had  been  long  fall 
ing  from  heaven. 

"  Oh,  the  rest  and  peace  of  that  face !  Physical 
rest  and  a  quiet,  happy  spirit  dwells  in  every  line. 
She  sleeps  there  like  a  child,  little  dreaming  that  a 
demon  is  watching  her.  But  she  says  that  she  is 
guarded.  Perhaps  she  is.  A  strong  viewless  one 
with  a  flaming  sword  may  stand  between  her  and 
me. 

"  Weak  fool !  Enough  of  this.  I  shall  carry  out 
my  experiment  fully,  and  when  I  have  succeeded  or 
failed,  I  can  come  to  some  conclusion  on  matters  now 
in  doubt. 

"  I  would  like  to  kiss  those  red  parted  lips.  I 
wonder  what  she  would  do  if  I  did  ?  " 

Annie's  brow  darkened  into  a  frown.  Suddenly 
she  started  up  and  looked  at  him,  but  seemed  satis 
fied  from  his  distance  and  motionless  aspect. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  had  a  dream,"  she  said  with  a 
slight  flush. 

"  Please  tell  it,"  he  said,  though  he  feared  her 
answer. 

"  You  will  not  like  it.     Besides,  it's  too  absurd." 

"  You  pique  my  curiosity.     Tell  it  by  all  means." 

"  Well,  then,  you  mustn't  be  angry  ;  and  remem 
ber,  I  have  no  faith  in  sleeping  vagaries.  I  dreamed 


1 84  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  you  were  transformed  into  a  large  tiger-cat,  and 
came  stealthily  to  bite  me." 

He  was  startled  as  he  recalled  his  thought  at  the 
moment  of  her  awaking,  but  had  the  presence  of 
jnind  to  say : 

"  Let  me  interpret  the  dream." 

"  Well." 

"  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  dreams  go  by  con 
traries.  Suppose  a  true  friend  wished  to  steal  a  kiss 
in  your  unconsciousness." 

"  True  friends  do  not  steal  from  us,"  she  replied, 
laughing.  "  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  safe  to  let 
you  read  me  to  sleep." 

"  It's  not  wrong  to  be  tempted,  is  it  ?  One  can't 
help  that.  As  Mr.  Tuggar  says,  I  might  have  the 
'  speret  to  do  it/  and  yet  remain  quietly  in  my  chair, 
as  I  have." 

11  You  make  an  admission  in  your  explanation. 
Well,  it  was  queer,"  she  added  absently. 

Gregory  thought  so  too,  and  was  annoyed  at  her 
unexpected  clairvoyant  powers.  But  he  said,  as  if  a 
little  piqued  : 

"  If  you  think  me  a  tiger-cat  you  had  better  not 
sleep  within  my  reach,  or  you  may  find  your  face 
sadly  mutilated  on  awaking." 

"  Nonsense,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  a 
gentleman.  We  are  talking  like  foolish  children." 

The  tea-bell  now  rang,  and  Gregory  obeyed  its 
summons  in  a  very  perplexed  state.  His  manner 
was  rather  absent  during  the  meal,  but  Annie 
seemed  to  take  pains  to  be  kind  and  reassuring. 


MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM.  185 

The  day,  so  far  from  being  a  restraint, .appeared 
one  of  habitual  cheerfulness,  which  even  the  dreary 
storm  without  could  not  dampen. 

"  We  shall  have  a  grand  sing  to-night  with  the 
assistance  of  your  voice,  I  hope,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said 
Mr.  Walton  as  they  all  adjourned  to  the  parlor. 

"  I  do  not  sing  by  note,"  he  replied.  "  When  I 
can  I  will  join  you,  though  I  much  prefer  listening 
to  Miss  Walton." 

"  Miss  Walton  prefers  nothing  of  the  kind,  and 
we  shall  sing  only  what  you  know,"  she  said  with  a 
smiling  glance  at  him  over  her  shoulder  as  she  was 
making  selections  from  the  music-stand. 

Soon  they  were  all  standing  round  the  piano, 
save  Mr.  Walton,  who  sat  near  in  his  arm-chair,  his 
face  the  picture  of  placid  enjoyment  as  he  looked  on 
the  little  group  so  dear  to  him.  They  began  with 
the  children's  favorites  from  the  Sabbath-school 
books,  the  little  boy  dutifully  finding  the  place  for 
his  grandfather.  Many  of  them  were  the  same  as 
Gregory  had  sung  long  years  before,  standing  in  the 
same  place,  a  child  like  Johnny,  and  the  vivid  mem 
ories  thus  recalled  made  his  voice  a  little  husky 
occasionally.  Annie  once  gave  him  a  quick  look  of 
sympathy,.not  curious  but  appreciative. 

"  She  seems  to  know  what  is  passing  in  my  soul," 
he  thought;  "  I  never  knew  a  woman  with  such  in 
tuitions." 

The  combined  result  of  their  voices  was  true 
home  music,  in  which  were  blended  the  tones  of 
childhood  and  age.  Annie,  with  her  sweet  soprano, 


1 86  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

led,  and  gave  time  and  key  to  them  all,  very  much 
as  by  the  force  and  loveliness  of  her  character  she 
influenced  the  daily  harmony  of  their  lives.  The 
children,  with  their  imitative  faculty,  seemed  to 
gather  from  her  lips  how  to  follow  with  fair  correct 
ness,  and  they  chirped  through  the  tunes  as  two 
intelligent  robins  might.  Miss  Eulie  sang  a  sweet 
though  rather  faint  alto  that  was  like  a  low  minor 
key  in  a  happy  life.  Mr.  Walton's  melody  was 
rather  that  of  the  heart,  for  his  voice  was  returning 
to  the  weakness  of  childhood  again,  and  his  ear 
scarcely  quick  enough  for  the  rapid  changes  of  the 
air,  and  yet,  unless  "  Grandpa  "  joined  with  them,  all 
felt  that  the  circle  was  incomplete. 

Gregory  was  a  foreign  element  in  the  little  group, 
almost  a  stranger  to  its  personnel,  and  more  estranged 
from  the  sacred  meanings  and  feeling  of  the  hour ; 
yet  such  was  the  contagion  of  the  example,  so  strong 
were  the  sweet  home-spells  of  this  Christian  family, 
that  to  his  surprise  he  found  himself  entering  with 
zest  into  a  scene  that  on  the  Sabbath  before  he 
would  have  regarded  as  an  unmitigated  bore.  The 
thought  flashed  across  him  : 

"  How  some  of  my  club  acquaintances  would 
laugh  to  see  me  standing  between  two  children  sing 
ing  Sabbath-school  hymns." 

It  was  also  a  sad  fact  that  he  could  go  awa> 
from  all  present  influences  to  spend  the  next  Sab 
bath  at  his  club  in  the  ordinary  style.  The  "  flesh- 
pots  of  Egypt,"  the  "  leeks  and  onions,"  are  not 
readily  exchanged  for  manna,  the  "  light-food  "from 


MISS  WALTON'S  DREAM.  187 

heaven  which  gross  natures  are  prone  to  "  loathe  " 
after  the  sensations  of  novelty  Ijave  passed  away. 

When  the  children's  hour  had  passed  and  they 
had  been  tucked  away  to  peaceful  spring-time 
dreams,  though  a  storm,  the  precursor  of  winter, 
raged  without,  Annie  returned  to  the  parlor  and 
said  : 

"Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  we  will  have  some  singing 
more  to  your  taste." 

"  I    have   been  one  of  the  children  to-day,"  he* 
replied,  "  so  you  must  let  me  off  with  them  from 
any  further  singing  myself." 

"  If  you  insist  on  playing  the  children's  rdle  you 
must  go  to  bed.  I  have  some  grand  old  hymns  that 
I've  been  wishing  to  try  with  you." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  am  but  half  a  man.  At 
the  risk  of  your  contempt  I  must  say  in  frankness 
that  my  whole  physical  nature  yearns  for  my  arm 
chair.  But  please  do  not  call  my  weakness  laziness. 
If  you  will  sing  to  me  just  what  you  please,  accord 
ing  to  your  mood,  I  for  one  will  be  grateful." 

"  Even  a  dragon  could  not  resist  such  an  appeal," 
said  Annie,  laughing,  and  she  sat  down  to  her  piano 
and  soon  partially  forgot  her  audience,  in  an  old 
Sabbath  evening  habit,  well  known  to  natural  musi 
cians,  of  expressing  her  deeper  and  more  sacred  feel 
ings  in  words  and  notes  that  harmonized  with  them. 
Gregory  sat  and  listened  as  the  young  girl  unwit 
ting  revealed  a  new  element  in  her  nature. 

In  her  every-day  life  she  appeared  to  him  full  of 
force  and  power,  practical  and  resolute.  With  his 


1 88  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

sporting  tastes  she  reminded  him  of  a  mettled  steed 
whose  high  spirit  was  kept  in  check  by  thorough 
training.  Her  conversation  was  piquant,  at  times  a 
little  brusque,  and  utterly  devoid  of  sentimentality. 
But  now  her  choice  of  poetic  thought  and  her  tones 
revealed  a  wealth  of  womanly  tenderness,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  feel  that  her  religion  was  not  legal 
and  cold,  a  system  of  duties,  beliefs,  and  restraints, 
but  something  that  seemed  to  stir  the  depths  of  her 
soul  with  mystic  longings  and  overflow  her  heart 
with  love.  She  was  not  adoring  the  Creator,  nor 
paying  homage  to  a  king ;  but,  as  the  perfume  rises 
from  a  flower,  so  her  voice  and  manner  seemed  the 
/iatural  expression  of  a  true,  strong  affection  for 
Ajod  Himself,  not  afar  off,  but  known  as  a  near  and 
\dear  friend.  In  her  sweet  tones  there  was  not  the 
faintest  suggestion  of  the  effect  or  style  that  a  pro 
fessional  singer  would  aim  at.  She  thought  no 
more  of  these  than  would  a  brown  thrush  swaying 
on  its  spray  in  the  twilight  of  a  June  evening.  As 
unaffectedly  as  the  bird  she  sang  according  to  the 
inward  promptings  of  a  nature  purified  and  made 
lovely  by  the  grace  of  God. 

No  one  not  utterly  given  over  to  evil  could  have 
listened  unmoved,  still  less  Walter,  with  his  sensitive, 
beauty-loving,  though  perverted  nature.  The  spirit 
of  David's  harp  again  breathed  its  divine  peace  on 
his  sin-disquieted  soul.  The  music  stole  into  his 
heart  as  the  angel  entered  the  "  lions'  den,"  and 
every  evil  passion,  like  -the  savage  beasts,  was  under 
the  restraint  of  a  gentle  but  irresistible  power.  The 


Mi  rOM'S  DKEAM.  189 

words  of  old    luddy  Tuggar  tl.i-.lu-d  across  him,  and 
lu-  muttei  rd  : 

••  \Vs  .-.he  ouild  Like  even  me  to  heaven,  *  if  she 

-.t.i\  ed  n:;ht    1>\    me.'  " 

\\hen  I'm.  dl\,  \\itli  lu-.ut  lelt  sincerity,  she  sang 
tlu-  tollo\\  m-  -.imple  words  u»  .in  .in  ili.it  seemed  a 
p.  ut  ot  them,  lu-  c-iu  u-d  her  from  tin-  depths  of  his 
.soul,  .uul  U-lt  th.it  lu-  Ui.uld  iv.uhly  h.uu-i  .uvay  any 
c-.utlil)  i  ii  .uul  lik  itself  for  a  like  faith  : 


i,  fftl 

I  :-.l.i<IU  uul..  ili<-c  , 
Ami  iln  «l.iN  ,  are  growing  brighter 
With  ili\  I'u-M-nce  nearer  me. 


Thourl.  .1  pilgrim,  not  a  stranger  ; 

Tin  ,  tin  l.in.l.  .111,1  I  limn-  own; 
At  thy  hiilf,  tlin  ,  IK  c  it»m  i  Linger, 
I'  in.  I  I  |..ulr.  \\iih  (lowers  strown. 


\.ui.  .  I,  n.iiiiK   •  p..  iking, 
Call  to  me  on  every    > 
Friends  ami  kimlivil  give  their  greeting  ; 
In  thy  sun-  Inn.    I  .iltide. 

Though  my  way  were  flinty,  thorny, 

Were  I  sun-  ii  l.-.i  i.,  thee, 
Coulil  I  |p.r     "ne  day  forlornly, 

Home  and  rest  so  soon  to  see? 

Then  she  brought  the  old  family  Bible,  indicat 
ing  .ill  -I  th.it  hour  she  was  in  no  mood  for  common- 
plftCe  Conversation.  In  the  hush  that  followed,  the 
good  old  in.  in  reverently  read  a  favorite  passage, 
which  did  not  seem  to  consist  of  cold,  printed  words, 


190 


OPEN-ING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


but  was  a  part  of  a  loving  letter  sent  by  the  Divine 
Father  to  his  absent  children. 

As  such  it  was  received  by  all  save  Gregory.  He 
sat  among  them  as  a  stranger  and  an  alien,  cut  off 
by  his  own  acts  from  those  ties  which  make  one 
household  of  earth  and  heaven.  But  such  was  the 
influence  of  the  evening  upon  him  that  he  realized 
as  never  before  his  loss  and  loneliness.  He  longed 
intensely  to  share  in  their  feelings,  and  for  the  right 
to  appropriate  the  words  of  love  and  promise  that 
Mr.  Walton  read. 

The  prayer  that  followed  was  so  tender,  so  full 
of  heartfelt  interest  in  his  guest,  that  Gregory's  feel 
ings  were  deeply  touched.  He  arose  from  his  knees, 
and  again  shaded  his  face  to  hide,  the  traces  of  his 
emotion. 

When  at  last  he  looked  up,  Mr.  Walton  was 
quietly  reading,  and  the  ladies  had  retired.  He 
rose  and  bade  Mr.  Walton  good  night  with  a  strong 
but  silent  grasp  of  the  hand. 

The  thought  flashed  across  him  as  he  went  to  his 
room,  that  after  this  evening  and  the  grasp  as  of 
friendship  he  had  just  given  the  father,  he  could 
not  in  the  faintest  degree  meditate  evil  against  the 
daughter.  But  so  conscious  was  he  of  moral  weak 
ness,  so  self-distrustful  in  view  of  many  broken  reso 
lutions,  he  dared  resolve  on  nothing.  He  at  last  fell 
into  a  troubled  sleep  with  the  vain,  regretful  thought, 
"  Oh  that  I  had  not  lost  my  vantage  ground !  Oh 
that  I  could  live  my  life  over  again  ! " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS, 

T  N  view  of  her  recent  stormy  mood,  nature  seemed 

full  of  regretful  relentings  on  Monday,  and,  as  if 
to  make  amends  for  her  harshness,  assumed  some 
thing  of  a  summer  softness.  The  sun  had  not  the 
glaring  brightness  that  dazzles,  and  the  atmosphere, 
purified  by  the  recent  rain,  revealed  through  its 
crystal  depths  objects  with  unusual  distinctness. 

"  It  is  a  splendid  day  for  a  mountain  ramble," 
said  Annie,  with  vivacity,  at  the  breakfast  table. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  old  Dolly  and  the  moun 
tain  wagon,  and  show  Mr.  Gregory  some  of  our  fine 
views,  this  afternoon?"  asked  Mr.  Walton. 

"  Nothing  would  please  me  more,"  said  his 
daughter  cordially ;  "  that  is  if  Mr.  Gregory  feels 
equal  to- the  fatigue." 

"  I'd  be  at  my  last  gasp  if  I  refused  such  an 
offer,"  said  Walter  eagerly ;  "  it  would  do  me  good, 
for  I  feel  much  stronger  than  when  I  first  came,  and 
Miss  Walton's  society  is  the  best  tonic  I  know  of." 

"  Very  well,"  said  she,  laughing.  "  You  shall 
take  me  this  afternoon  as  a  continuation  of  the  tonic 
treatment  under  which  you  say  you  are  improv 
ing." 


192 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


11  To  carry  on  the  medical  figure,"  he  replied,  "  I 
tear  that  I  am  to  you  the  embodiment  of  the  deple 
tive  system." 

"  From  my  feelings  this  bright  morning  you  have 
very  little  effect.  I  prescribe  for  you  a  quiet  fore 
noon,  as  our  mountain  roads  will  give  you  an  awful 
jolting.  You,  if  not  your  medicine,  will  be  well 
.shaken  to-day." 

"  You  are  my  medicine,  as  I  understand  it,  so  I 
shall  take  it  according  to  the  old  orthodox  coup 
let." 

"  No,  the  mountain  is  your  medicine,  and  I  antici 
pate  no  earthquakes." 

"  It  is  settled  then,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  smiling, 
"that  you  adopt  Mahomet's  compromise  and  go  to 
the  mountain.  I  will  tell  Jeff  to  fit  you  out  in 
suitable  style." 

Walter  retired  to  his  room  for  a  quiet  morn 
ing  in  excellent  spirits.  The  prospect  for  the  after 
noon  pleased  him  greatly,  and  a  long  tete-a-tete 
with  Annie  among  the  grand  and  beautiful  solitudes 
of  nature*  had  for  him  an  attraction  that  he  could 
scarcely  understand. 

"  She  is  just  the  one  for  a  companion  on  such  an 
expedition,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  She  seems  a  part 
of  the  scenes  we  shall  look  upon.  The  free,  strong 
mountain  spirit  breathes  in  her  every  word  and  act. 
Old  Greek  mythology  would  certainly  make  her  a 
nymph  of  the  hills." 

After  dinner  they  started,  Walter's  interest  cen 
tring  mainly  in  his  companion,  but  Annie  regard- 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  193 

ing  him  as  a  mere  accessory  to  a  sort  of  half 
holiday  in  her  busy  life,  and  expecting  more  enjoy 
ment  from  the  scenery  and  exhilarating  air  than  from 
his  best  efforts  to  entertain  her.  And  yet  in  this 
respect  she  was  a'greeably  disappointed.  Gregory 
was  in  a  mood  that  he  scarcely  understood  himself. 
If  Annie  had  been  somewhat  vain  and  shallow, 
though  possessing  many  other  good  traits,  with  the 
practised  skill  of  a  society  man  he  would  have  availed 
himself  of  these  weaknesses,  amused  himself  with  a 
piquant  flirtation,  and  soon  have  been  ready  for  his 
departure  to  New  York  with  a  contemptuous  French 
shrug  at  the  whole  affair.  But  Annie's  weaknesses 
did  not  lie  in  that  direction.  Her  naturally  truthful 
and  earnest  nature,  deepened  and  strengthened  by 
Christian  principle,  from  the  first  had  foiled  his  un 
worthy  purposes,  and  disturbed  his  contemptuous 
cynicism.  Then  as  he  was  compelled  to  believe  in 
her  reality,  her  truth  and  nobleness,  all  that  was  in 
his  own  nature  responsive  to  these  traits  began  to 
assert  itself.  Even  while  he  clung  to  it  and  felt  that 
he  had  no  power  to  escape  it,  the  evil  of  his  lift 
grew  more  hateful  to  him,  and  he  condemned  him 
self  with  increasing  bitterness.  When  good  influ 
ences  are  felt  in  a  man's  soul,  evil  seems  to  become 
specially  active.  The  kingdom  of  darkness  disputes 
every  inch  of  its  ill-gotten  power.  Winter  passes 
away  in  March  storms.  It  is  the  still  cold  of  indif 
ference  that  is  nearest  akin  to  death. 

The  visit  to  his  old  home  and  the  influence  of 
Annie  Walton  were  creating  March  weather  in  Wal- 
9 


194 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


ter  Gregory's  soul.  There  were  a  few  genial  moods 
like  gleams  of  early  spring  sunshine.  There  were 
sudden  relentings  and  passionate  longings  for  better 
life,  as  at  times  gentle,  frost-relaxing  showers  soften 
the  flinty  ground.  There  were  fierce  spiritual  con 
flicts,  wild  questionings,  doubts,  fears,  and  forebod 
ings,  and  sometimes  despair,  even  as,  in  this  gusty 
month,  nature  often  seems  resolving  itself  back  to 
primeval  chaos.  But  too  often  his  mood  was  that 
of  cold  hard  skepticism,  the  frost  of  mid-winter.  The 
impetus  of  his  evil  life  would  seemingly  be  long  in 
spending  itself. 

And  yet  the  influence  of  the  previous  quiet  hal 
lowed  Sabbath  evening,  and  Annie  Walton's  hymns 
of  faith  and  love,  could  not  readily  be  lost.  The 
father's  prayer  still  echoed  in  his  soul,  and  even  to 
him  it  seemed  the  heavens  could  not  be  deaf  to 
such -an  appeal.  They  affected  him  as  no  direct 
appeals  possibly  could.  They  were  like  the  gentle 
but  irresistible  south  wind. 

He  was  now  simply  drifting.  He  had  not  defi 
nitely  abandoned  his  purpose  of  tempting  Annie,  nor 
did  he  consciously  thrust  it  from  him.  Quite  con 
vinced  that  she  was  what  she  seemed,  and  doubting 
greatly  whether  during  his  brief  visit  there  would  be 
time  to  affect  her  mind  seriously  by  any  evil  influ 
ence  he  could  bring  to  bear,  and  won  unwittingly 
by  her  pure  spirit  to  better  things  himself,  he  let  the 
new  and  unexpectedinfluences  have  full  play. 

He  was  like  a  man  who  finds  himself  in  the  cur 
rent  above  Niagara,  and  gives  up  in  despair,  allowing 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MO  UN  TAWS.  195 

his  boat  to  glide  onward  to  the  fatal  plunge.  A 
breeze  springs  up  and  blows  against  the  current. 
He  spreads  a  sail  and  finds  his  progress  downward 
checked.  If  the  wind  increases  and  blows  steadily, 
he  may  stem  the  rushing  tide  and  reach  smooth  still 
waters. 

A  faint  glimmering  of  hope  began  to  dawn  in 
Gregory's  heart.  An  unexpected  gale  from  heaven 
blowing  against  the  current  of  evil,  made  it  seem 
possible  that  he  too  might  gain  the  still  waters  of  a 
peaceful  faith.  Still  the  hope  dwelt  in  his  mind 
more  as  a  passing  thought,  a  possibility,  than  an 
expectation. 

In  his  wavering  state  how  the  scales  would  turn 
depended  mainly  upon  the  mood  of  his  companion. 
If  she  had  been  flighty  and  inclined  to  flirt,  full  of 
frivolous  nonsense,  bent  upon  having  a  good  time  in 
the  frequent  acceptance  of  the  phrase,  little  recking 
the  consequences  of  words  or  acts,  as  is  often  the 
case  with  many  girls  in  the  main  good-hearted  and 
well  meaning,  Walter  would  have  fallen  in  with 
such  a  mood  and  pushed  it  to  the  extreme. 

But  Annie  was  simply  herself,  bright  and  exhil 
arating  as  the  October  sunshine,  but  as  pure  and 
strong.  She  was  ready  for  jest  and  repartee.  She 
showed  almost  a  childish  delight  for  every  odd  and 
pretty  thing  that  met  her  eye,  but  never  for  a 
moment  permitted  her  companion  to  lose  respect  for 
her. 

Her  cheeks  were  like  the  crimson  maple-leaves 
under  which  they  rode.  Her  eyes  were  like  the  dark 


10,6  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

sparkle  of  the  little  brook  as  it  emerged  from  the 
causeway  over  which  they  drove.  Her  brown  hair, 
tossed  by  the  wind,  escaped  somewhat  from  its  neat 
bands,  and  enhanced  the  snowy  whiteness  of  her  neck, 
and  the  thought  occurred  to  Gregory  more  than 
once : 

"  If  she  is  not  pretty,  I  never  saw  a  face  more 
pleasant  to  look  at." 

The  wish  to  gain  her  esteem  and  friendship  grew 
stronger  every  moment,  and  he  exerted  himself  to 
the  utmost  to  please  her.  Abandoning  utterly  his 
French  gallantry,  his  morbid  cynicism,  he  came  out 
into  the  honest  sunlight  of  truth,  where  Annie's 
mind  dwelt,  and  directed  the  conversation  to  sub 
jects  concerning  which,  as  an  educated  and  trav 
elled  man,  he  could  speak  frankly  and  intelligently, 
Annie  had  strong  social  tastes  and  the  fondness  for 
companionship  natural  to  the  young,  and  she  was 
surprised  to  find  how  he  stimulated  and  inter 
ested  her  mind,  and  how  much  they  had  in  com 
mon.  He  appeared  to  understand  her  immediately, 
and  to  lead  her  thoughts  to  new  and  exciting  flights. 

It  was  their  purpose  to  direct  their  course  so  as  to 
cross  a  spur  of  the  main  mountain-range.  After  a 
long  and  toilsome  climb,  stopping  to  give  Dolly 
many  a  breathing  spell,  they  at  last  reached  the 
brow  of  the  wooded  height,  and  turned  to  look  at 
the  autumn  landscape  glimmering  in  the  bright 
October  sunshine.  It  is  impossible  either  by  pen  or 
brush  to  give  a  true  picture  of  wide  teaches  of  broken 
and  beautiful  country,  as  seen  from  some  of  the 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

more  favored  points  of  outlook  among  the  Highlands 
on  the  Hudson.  The  loveliness  -of  a  pretty  bit  of 
scenery  or  of  a  landscape  may  be  enhanced  by  art, 
but  the  impressive  grandeur  of  nature,  when  the 
feature  of  vast  and  varied  expanse  predominates, 
cannot  adequately  be  expressed.  The  mind  itself 
is  oppressed  by  the  extensiveness  of  the  scene,  and 
tends  to  select  some  definite  object,  as  a  village,  ham 
let,  or  tree-embowered  farm-house,  on  which  to  dwell. 
These  accord  more  with  the  finite  nature  of  the 
beholder,  and  spires  and  curling  wreaths  of  smoke 
suggested  to  Annie  and  Gregory  many  a  simple 
altar  and  quiet  hearth  around  which  gathered  the 
homely,  contented  life,  spiritual  and  domestic,  of 
those  who  occupied  their  own  little  niche  in  the 
great  world,  and  were  all  unburdened  with  thought 
or  care  for  the  indefinite  regions  that  stretched  away 
beyond  their  narrow  circle  of  daily  acquaintance. 
Only  God  can  give  the  all-seeing  gaze  to  the  whole 
of  his  creation  that  we  bestow  upon  some  familiar 
scene.  His  glance  around  the  globe  is  that  of  a 
mother  around  her  nursery,  with  her  little  children 
grouped  at  her  feet. 

The  laden  orchards,  with  men  climbing  long  lad 
ders,  and  boys  in  the  topmost  branches  looking  like 
huge  squirrels  in  the  distance,  were  pleasant  objects 
to  the  mountain  rambles/  Huskers  could  be  dis 
cerned  in  the  nearer  corn-fields  and  the  great  yel 
low  ears  glistened  momentarily  in  the  light,  as  they 
were  tossed  into  golden  heaps.  There  was  no  hum 
of  industry  as  from  a  manufacturing  village,  nor  roaf 


198 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


of  turbulent  life  as  from  a  city,  but  only  the  quiet 
evidence  to  the  eye  of  a  life  kindred  to  that  which 
nature  so  silently  and  beautifully  elaborates. 
Jk>*  How  insignificant  we  are ! "  said  Walter  gloom 
ily  ;  "  how  the  great  world  goes  right  on  without 
us.  I'lt  is  the  same  when  one  dies  and  leaves  it, 
as  we  left  it  by  climbing  this  mountain.  In  the 
main  we  are  unknown  and  uncared  for,  and  even  to 
those  who  knew  us,  it  is  soon  the  same  as  if  we  had 
never  been." 

.  *y"  But  the  world  cannot  go  on  without  God. 
/Though  forgotten,  he  never  forgets  !  His  friends 
need  never  have  the  sense  of  being  lost  or  lonely — 
no  more  than  a  child  travelling  in  a  foreign  land  with 
his  father  among  indifferent  strangers.  God  does 
not  look  at  us,  his  creatures,  as  we  do  at  the  foliage 
of  these  forests,  seeing  only  the  general  effect.  *XHe 
sees  each  one  as  directly  as  I  now  look  at  you." 

"  I  wish  I  could  believe  He  looked  as  kindly." 

"  I  wish  you   could,  Mr.  Gregory.     It  is  sad  to 

me  that  people  can't  believe  what  is  so  true.  ^The 

fondest  look  your  mother  ever  gave  you  was  cold, 

Compared  with  the  yearning,  loving  face  God  turns 

\ /to ward  every  one  of  us,  even  as  we  go  away  from 

*  Him." 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly  for  a  moment  and 
saw  that  sincerity  was  written  on  her  face.  He 
shook  his  head  sadly,  and  then  said  rather  abruptly : 

"  Those  lengthening  shadows  remind  us  that  we 
must  be  on  our  way ; "  and  their  thoughts  dwelt 
on  lighter  subjects  as  they  ascended  another  lofty 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


I99 


mountain  terrace,  and  paused  again  to  scan  the 
wider  prospect  that  made  the  sense  of  daily  life  in 
the  valleys  below  as  remote  as  the  world  to  the 
hermit  in  his  devotional  seclusion.  Then  they  com 
menced  descending  the  sloping  plateau  which  in 
clined  toward  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking  the 
region  wherein  was  located  the  Walton  residence. 

After  one  or  two  hours  of  broken  but  very  agree 
able  conversation  Annie  suddenly  sighed  deeply. 

"  Now,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  "  that  sigh 
came  from  the  depths.  What  hidden  sorrow  could 
have  caused  it  ?  " 

With  a  slight  flush 'and  laugh,  she  said  : 

"  It  was  caused  by  a  mere  passing  thought,  like 
that  cloud  there  sailing  over  the  mountain  slope." 

"  Your  simile  is  so  pretty  that  I  would  like  to 
know  the  thought." 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  to  tell  it  to  you.  It 
might  have  the  same  effect  as  if  that  cloud  should 
expand  and  cover  the  sky." 

"  Might  not  the  telling  also  have  the  effect  as  if 
the  cloud  were  dissipated  altogether  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  quickly  and  said  :  "  How  apt 
your  answer  is  !  Yes,  it  might  if  you  would  be  sensi 
ble.  I  do  not  know  you  so  very  well  yet.  Are  you 
not  a  little  ready  to  take  offence  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  look  as  if  about  to  say  anything  I 
should  resent  very  deeply.  But  I  promise  that  the 
cloud  shall  vanish." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  about  that.  The  cloud  repre 
sents  my  thought ;  and  yet  I  hope  it  may  even- 


2OQ  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

tually  vanish  utterly.  The  thought  occurred  to  me 
after  the  pleasant  hours  of  this  afternoon  what  con 
genial  friends  we  might  be/' 

"  And  that  caused  you  to  sigh  so  deeply?'7 

"  I  laid  emphasis  on  the  word  might." 

"  And  why  should  you,  Miss  Annie  ?  Why  need 
you  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  You  have  shown  a  great  deal  of  tact  and  con 
sideration  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Gregory,  in  choosing 
topics  on  which  we  could  agree,  or  about  which  it  is 
as  nice  to  differ  a  little.  I  wish  it  were  the  same  in 
regard  to  those  things  that  make  up  one's  life  as  it 
were,"  and  she  looked  at  him-  closely  to  see  how  he 
would  take  this. 

After  a  moment,  he  said,  a  little  bitterly  :  "  In 
Aorder  to  be  your  friend,  must  one  look  at  everything 
through  the  same  colored  glass  as  yourself?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  she  replied  earnestly,  "  it  is  not  fair  to 
say  that.  But  you  seem  almost  hostile  to  all  that  I 
love  best  and  think  most  of,  and  my  sigh  was  rather 
an  earnest  and  oft-recurring  wish  that  it  were  other 
wise." 

Again  he  was  silent  for  a  short  time,  then  said 
with  sudden  vehemence : 

"  And  I  also  wish  it  were  otherwise  ;  "  adding  more 
quietly,  "  but  it  is  not,  Miss  Walton.  You  know 
me  too  well,  even  if  I  wished  to  deceive  you.  And 
yet  I  would  give  a  great  deal  for  such  a  friend 
ship  as  you  could  bestow.  Why  can  you  not  give  it 
as  it  is  ?  The  founder  of  your  faith  was  a  friend  of 
publicans  and  sinners." 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.          2OI 

"  He  was  indeed  their  friend,  and  has  been  ever 
since,"  she  answered ;  "  but  was  it  not  natural  that 
he  found  more  that  was  attractive  and  congenial  in 
that  little  group  of  disciples  who  were  learning  to 
know  and  believe  in  him  ?" 

"  I  understand  you,  Miss  Walton.  I  was  unfor 
tunate  in  my  illustration,  and  you  have  turned  it 
against  me.  You  can  be  my  friend,  as  the  mission 
ary  is  the  friend  of  the  heathen." 

"You  go  to  extremes,  Mr.  Gregory,  and  are 
hardly  fair.  I  am  not  a  missionary  nor  you  a  hea 
then.  I  make  my  meaning  clear  when  I  echo  your 
thought  of  a  moment  ago,  and  wish  that  just  such 
a  friendship  might  exist  between  us  as  that  between 
your  father  and  mine." 

"  I  am  what  I  am,"  he  said,  with  genuine  sad 
ness. 

"  I  wish  you  had  my  faith  in  the  possibilities  of 
the  future,"  she  replied,  turning  brightly  toward 
him. 

But  he  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  I  have  about 
lost  all  faith  in  everything  as  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
Still  I  feel  that  if  any  one  could  do  me  any  good; 
you  might,  but  I  fear  it  is  a  hopeless  task."  Then 
he  changed  the  subject  in  such  a  way  as  to  show 
that  it  was  painful,  and  that  he  preferred  it  should 
drop. 

After  all,  the  cloud  had  overcast  the  sky.  The  in 
evitable  separation  between  those  guided  by  Divine 
and  earthly  principles  began  to  dawn  upon  him.  He 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  "  great  gulf,"  that  is  ever 
9*  ' 


2Q2  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BUR* 

"  fixed  between  "  the  good  and  evil  in  their  deepest 
consciousness.  The  "  loneliness  of  guilt  "  chilled  and 
oppressed  him  even  with  the  cheery  sympathetic 
companion  at  his  side.  But  he  hid  his  feelings 
under  a  forced  gayety,  in  which  Annie  joined  some 
what,  though  it  gave  her  a  vague  shiver  of  pain. 
She  felt  they  had  been  en  rapport  for  a  little  while, 
but  now  a  change  had  come,  even  as  the  damp  and 
chill  of  approaching  night  was  taking  the  place  of 
the  genial  sunshine. 

Suddenly  she  said,  as  they  were  riding  along  on 
the  comparatively  level  plateau  among  thick  copse- 
wood  and  overshadowing  trees  that  already  created 
a  premature  twilight : 

"  It  is  strange  we  do  not  come  out  on  the  brow 
of  the  mountain  overlooking  our  home.  This  wood 
does  not  seem  familiar  either,  though  it  is  two  or 
three  years  since  I  have  been  over  it,  and  then  Jeff 
drove.  I  thought  I  knew  the  way  well.  Can  it  be 
possible  we  have  taken  the  wrong  turning  ?  " 

"  I  ought  to  be  familiar  with  these  roads,  Miss 
Walton,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  too  am  confused.  I 
hunted  over  these  hills  when  a  boy,  to  some  extent, 
but  did  not  pay  much  heed  to  the  roads,  as  I  took 
my  own  courses  through  the  woods." 

"  I  think  I  must  be  right,"  said  Annie,  after  a 
little  time  ;  "  the  brow  of  the  hill  must  be  near  ;  " 
and  they  hastened  the  old  horse  along  as  fast  as  pos 
sible  under  the  circumstances.  But  the  road  con 
tinually  grew  rougher  and  gave  evidence  of  very 
little  travel,  and  the  evening  deepened  rapidly.  At 


AN  ACCIDENT  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 


203 


last  they  resolved  to  turn  round  at  the  first  place  that 
would  permit  of  it,  but  this  was  not  readily  found, 
there  being  only  a  single  wheel-track,  which  now 
stretched  away  before  them  like  a  narrow  cut  between 
banks  of  foilage,  that  looked  solid  in  the  increasing 
darkness ;  the  road  also  was  full  of  'rocks,  loose 
stones,  deep  ruts,  over  which  the  wagon  jolted  pain 
fully.  With  a  less  sure-footed  horse  than  Dolly 
they  would  have  soon  come  to  grief.  Gregory  was 
becoming  greatly  fatigued,  though  he  strove  to  hide 
it,  and  both  were  filled  with  genuine  uneasiness  at 
the  prospect  before  them.  To  make  matters  seem 
ingly  desperate,  as  they  were  descending  a  little  hill 
a  fore-wheel  caught  between  two  stones  and  was 
wrenched  sharply  off.  Quick,  agile  Annie  sprang  as 
she  felt  the  wagon  giving,  but  Walter  was  thrown 
out  among  the  brushwood  by  the  roadside.  Though 
scratched  and  bruised,  he  was  not  seriously  hurt, 
and  as  quickly  as  possible  came  to  the  assistance  of 
his  companion.  He  found  her  standing  by  Dolly's 
head,  holding  and  soothing  the  startled  beast.  Ap 
parently  she  was  unhurt.  They  looked  searchingly 
at  the  dusky  forest,  their  broken  vehicle,  and  then  at 
each  other.  Words  were  unnecessary  to  explain  the 
awkwardness  of  their  situation. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"PROMISE  OR  DIE." 

"\17"HILE  they  were  thus  standing  irresolutely 
after  the  accident,  at  a  loss  what  to  do,  sud 
denly  a  light  glimmered  upon  them.  It  appeared  to 
come  from  a  house  standing  a  little  off  from  the 
road. 

"  Shall  I  leave  you  here  and  go  for  assistance  ?  " 
asked  Walter. 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  go  with  you.  Dolly  will 
stand,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  left  alone." 

They  soon  found  a  grassy  path  leading  to  a 
small  house,  from  which  the  light  shone  but  faintly 
through  closely  curtained  windows.  They  met  no 
one,  nor  were  their  footsteps  heard  till  they  knocked 
at  the  door.  A  gruff  voice  said  : 

"  Come  in." 

They  entered.  A  middle-aged  man  with  his  coat 
off  sat  at  work  with  his  back  toward  them.  A  huge 
bull-dog  started  up  from  near  the  fire  with  a  savage 
growl.  The  man  rose  hastily  and  stared,  at  them 
with  a  strangely  blended  look  of  consternation  and 
anger. 

"  Call  off  your  dog,"  said  Walter,  sharply. 

"  Down,  Bull,"  said  the  man  harshly,  and  the  dog 


PROMISE   OR  DIE!' 


205 


slunk  growling  into  a  corner,  but  with  a  watchful 
ugly  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

The  man's  expression  was  quite  as  sinister  and 
threatening. 

"Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want?"  he 
asked  sternly. 

"  We  want  help,"  said  Gregory,  with  a  quick  and 
apprehensive  glance  around,  which  at  once  revealed 
to  him  why  their  visit  was  so  unwelcome.  The  man 
had  been  at  work  counterfeiting  money,  and  the 
evidences  of  his  guilt  were  only  too  apparent.  "  We 
have  lost  our  way  our  wagon  broke.  I  hope  you 
have  sufficient  humanity  to  act  the  part  of  a  neigh 
bor." 

"  Humanity  to  the  devil !  "  said  the  man  brutally. 
"  I  am  neighbor  to  no  one.  You  have  come  here  to 
pry  into  what  is  none  of  your  business." 

"  We  have  not,"  said  Walter  eagerly.  "  You  will 
find  our  broken  wagon  in  the  road  but  a  little  way 
from  here." 

The  man's  eye  was  cold,  hard,  and  now  had  a 
snake-like  glitter  as  he  looked  at  them  askance  with 
a  gloomy  scowl.  He  seemed  thinking  over  the  situ 
ation  in  which  he  found  himself. 

Gregory,  in  his  weak,  exhausted  state,  and  shaken 
somewhat  by  his  fall,  was  nervous  and  apprehensive. 
Annie,  though  pale,  stood  firmly  and  quietly  by. 

Slowly  and  hesitatingly,  as  if  deliberating  as  to 
the  best  course,  the  man  reached  up  to  a  shelf  and 
took  down  a  revolver,  saying  with  an  evil-boding  look 
at  them : 


206  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  If  I  thought  you  had  come  as  detectives,  you 
would  have  no  chance  to  use  your  knowledge.  You, 
sir,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  think  this  lady  is  Squire 
Walton's  daughter.  As  it  is,  you  must  both  sol 
emnly  promise  me  before  God  that  you  will  never 
reveal  what  you  have  seen  here.  Otherwise  I  have 
but  one  method  of  self-protection,"  and  he  cocked 
his  pistol.  "  Let  me  tell  you/5  he  added  in  a  blood 
curdling  tone,  "  you  are  not  the  first  ones  I  have 
silenced.  And  mark  this — if  you  go  away  and  break 
this  promise,  I  have  confederates  who  will  take  ven 
geance  on  you  and  yours." 

"  No  need  of  any  further  threats,"  said  Gregory 
with  a  shrug.  "  I  promise.  As  you  say,  it  is  none 
of  my  business  how  much  of  the  l  queer '  you  make." 

Though  naturally  not  a  coward,  Gregory,  in  his 
habit  of  self-pleasing  and  instinctively  shunning  all 
sources  of  annoyance,  would  not  have  gone  out  of  his 
way  under  any  circumstances  to  bring  a  criminal  to 
justice,  and  the  thought  of  risking  anything  in  this 
case  did  not  occur  to  him.  Why  should  they  peril 
their  lives  for  the  good  of  the  commonwealth.  If 
he  had  been  alone  and  escaped  without  further 
trouble,  he  would  have  thought  of  the  matter  after 
ward  as  of  a  crime  recorded  in  the  morning  paper, 
and  with  which  he  had  no  concern,  except  perhaps 
to  scrutinize  more  sharply  the  currency  he  received. 

But  with  conscientious  Annie  it  was  very  differ 
ent.  Her  father  was  a  magistrate  of  the  right  kind, 
who  sincerely  sought  to  do  justice  and  protect  the 
people  in  their  rights.  From  almost  daily  con  versa 


"PROMISE   OR  DIE."  207 

tion  her  mind  had  been  impressed  with  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  law.  When  she  was  inclined  to  induce 
her  father  to  give  a  lighter  sentence  than  he  believed 
right  he  had  explained  how  the  well-being  and  in 
deed  the,,  very  existence  of  society  depended  upon 
the  righteous  enforcement  of  the  law,  and  that 
true  mercy  lay  in  such  enforcement.  She  had  been 
made  to  feel  that  the  responsibility  for  good  order 
and  morals  rested  on  every  one,  and  that  to  conceal 
a  known  crime  was  to  share  deeply  in  the  guilt. 
She  also  was  not  skilled  in  that  casuistry  which 
would  enable  her  to  promise  anything  with  mental 
reservations.  The  shock  of  their  savage  and  threat 
ening  reception  had  been  severe,  but  she  was  not  at 
all  inclined  to  be  hysterical ;  and  though  her  heart 
seemed  to  stand  still  with  a  chill  of  dread  which 
deepened  every  moment  as  she  realized  what  would 
be  exacted  of  her,  she  seemed  more  self-possessed 
than  Gregory.  Indeed,  in  the  sudden  and  awful 
emergencies  of  life,  woman's  fortitude  is  often  supe 
rior  to  man's,  and  Annie's  faith  was  no  decoious 
and  conventional  profession  for  Sabbath  uses,  but 
a  constant  and  living  reality.  She  was  like  the 
maidens  of  martyr  days,  who  tremblingly  but  un 
hesitatingly  died  for  conscience'  sake.  While  there 
was  no  wavering  of  purpose,  there  was  an  agony  of 
fear  and  sorrow,  as,  after  the  momentary  confusion 
of  mind  caused  by  the  suddenness  of  the  thing,  the 
terrible  nature  of  the  ordeal  before  her  became 
evident. 

Through   her    father    she    had   heard  a  vague 


2o8  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

rumor  of  this  man  before.  Though  he  lived  so  se 
cluded  and  was  so  reticent,  his  somewhat  mysterious 
movements  had  awakened  suspicion.  But  his  fierce 
dog  and  his  own  manner  had  kept  all  obtrusive  curi 
osity  at  a  distance.  Now  she  saw  her  father's  worst 
fears  and  surmises  realized. 

But  the  counterfeiter  at  first  gave  all  his  attention 
to  her  companion,  thinking  that  he  would  have  but 
little  trouble  with  a  timid  girl ;  and  after  Gregory's 
ready  promise,  looked  searchingly  at  him  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  said,  with  a  coarse,  scornful  laugh : 

"  No  fear  of  you.  You  will  keep  your  skin 
whole.  You  are  a  city  chap,  and  know  enough  of 
me  and  my  tribe  to  be  sure  I  can  strike  you  there 
as  well  as  here.  I  can  trust  to  your  fears,  and  don't 
wish  to  shed  blood  when  it  is  unnecessary.  And 
now  this  girl  must  make  the  same  promise.  Her 
father  is  a  magistrate,  and  I  intend  to  have  no  posse 
of  men  up  here  after  me  to-morrow." 

"  I  can  make  no  such  promise,"  said  Annie  in  a 
low  tone. 

"What !  "  exclaimed  the  man  harshly,  and  a  sav 
age  growl  from  the  dog  made  a  kindred  echo  to  his 
tone. 

Deathly  pale,  but  with  firm  bearing,  Annie  said  : 
'*  I  cannot  promise  to  shield  crime  by  silence.  I 
*hould  be  a  partaker  in  your  guilty  secrets." 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake  promise  !  "  cried  Walter  in 
in  agony  of  fear,  but  in  justice  it  must  be  said  that 
it  was  more  for  her  than  himself. 

"  For  God's  sake  I  cannot  promise." 


«  PROMISE  OR  DIE?' 


209 


The  man  stepped  menacingly  toward  her,  and 
the  great  dog  also  advanced  unchecked  out  of  his 
corner. 

"  Young  woman,"  he  hissed  in  her  ear,  "  you 
must  promise  or  die.  I  have  sworn  never  to  go  to 
prison  again  if  I  wade  knee-deep  in  blood." 

There  came  a  rush  of  tears  to  Annie's  eyes.  Her 
bosom  heaved  convulsively  a  moment,  and  then  she 
said  in  a  tone  of  agony : 

"  It  is  dreadful  to  die  in  such  a  way,  but  I  can 
not  make  the  promise  you  ask.  It  would  burden  my 
conscience  and  blight  my  life.  I  will  trust  to  God's 
mercy  and  do  right.  But  think  twice  before  you 
shed  my  innbcent  blood." 

Walter  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
groaned  aloud. 

The  man  hesitated.  He  had  evidently  hoped  by 
his  threats  to  frighten  her  into  compliance,  and  her 
unexpected  refusal,  while  it  half  frenzied  him  with 
fear  and  anger,  made  his  course  difficult  to  deter 
mine  upon.  He  was  not  quite  hardened  enough  to 
slay  the  defenceless  girl  as  she  stood  so  bravely 
before  him,  and  the  killing  of  her  would  also  involve 
the  putting  of  Gregory  out  of  the  way,  making  a 
double  murder  that  would  be  hard  to  conceal.  He 
looked  at  the  dog,  and  the  thought  occurred  that  by 
turning  them  out  of  doors  and  leaving  them  to  the 
brute's  tender  mercies  their  silence  might  be  effec 
tually  secured. 

It  is  hard  to  say  what  he  would  have  done,  left 
to  his  own  fears  and  evil  passions ;  but  a  moment 


2io  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

after  Annie  had  spoken,  the  door  opened  and  a 
woman  entered  with  a  pail  of  water,  which  she  had 
just  brought  from  a  spring  some  little  distance  from 
the  house. 

"What  does  this  mean**"  she  asked,  with  a 
quick,  startled  glance  around. 

"  It  means  mischief  to  all  concerned,"  said  the 
man  sullenly. 

"  This  is  Miss  Walton,"  said  the  woman,  stepping 
forward. 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Annie, and  she  rushed  forward 
and  sobbed  out : 

"  Save  me  from  your  husband — he  threatened  to 
take  my  life." 

"Your  husband!"  said  the  woman  with  intense 
bitterness,  turning  toward  the  man ;  "  do  you  hear 
that,  Vight  ?  Quiet  your  fears,  young  lady.  Do  you 
remember  the  sick,  weary  woman  that  you  found  one 
hot  day  last  summer  by  the  roadside  ?  I  was  faint, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  dying.  I  often  wish 
to,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  point  and  I  look  over 
into  the  black  gulf,  I'm  afraid— 

"  But,  woman—  "  interrupted  the  man  harshly. 

"  Be  still,"  she  said,  imperiously  waving  her  hand. 
"  Don't  rouse  a  devil  you  can't  control."  Then  turn 
ing  to  Annie,  she  continued  : 

"I  was  afraid  then — I  was  in  an  agony  of  terror. 
I  was  so  weak  that  I  could  scarcely  do  more  than 
look  appealingly  to  you  and  stretch  out  my  hands. 
Most  ladies  would  have  said,  '  She's  drunk,'  and 
passed  contemptuously  on.  But  you  got  out  of 


«  PROMISE  OR  DIE."  211 

your  wagon*  and  took  my  cold  hand.  I  whispered, 
'  I'm  sick  ;  for  God's  sake  help  me,  and  you  believed 
me  and  said,  '  I  will  help  you,  for  God's  sake  and 
your  own.'  Then  you  went  to  the  carriage,  and  got 
some  cordial  which  you  said  was  for  some  other  sick 
person,  and  gave  me  some ;  and  when  I  revived,  you 
half  carried  me  and  lifted  me  into  your  nice  covered 
little  wagon,  that  kept  the  burning  sun  off  my  head, 
and  you  took  me  miles  out  of  your  way  to  a  little 
house  which  I  falsely  told  you  was  my  home.  I 
heard  that  you  afterward  came  to  see  me.  You 
spoke  kindly.  When  I  could  speak  I  said  that  *  I 
was  not  fit  for  you  to  touch,'  and  you  answered, 
V  *  Jesus  Christ  was  glad  to  help  and  touch  any  human 
creature,  and  that  you  were  not  better  than  He!' 
Then  you  told  me  a  little  about  Him,  but  I  was  too 
sick  to  listen  much.  God  knows  I've  got  down  about 
as  low  as  any  woman  can.  I  dare  not  pray  for  my 
self,  but  since  that  day  I've  prayed  for  you  ;  and 
mark  what  I  say,  Vight,"  she  added,  her  sad,  weird 
manner  changing  to  sudden  fierceness,  "  not  a  hair 
of  this  lady's  head  shall  be  hurt." 

"  But  these  two  will  go  and  blab  on  us,"  said  the 
•man  angrily.  "  At  least  the  girl  will.  She  won't 
promise  to  keep  our  secret.  I  have  no  fears  for  the 
man  ;  I  can  keep  him  quiet." 

"Why  won't  you  promise?"  asked  the  woman 
gently,  but  with  surprise. 

"  Because  I  cannot,"  said  Annie  earnestly,  though 
her  voice  was  still  broken  by  sobs.  "  When  we  hide 
crime,  we  take  part  in  it." 


212  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  And  would  you  rather  die  than  do  what  you 
thought  wrong?" 

"  It  were  better,"  said  Annie. 

"Oh  that  I  had  had  such  a  spirit  in  the  fatal 
past !  "  groaned  the  woman. 

"But  won't  you  protect  me  still?"  exclaimed 
Annie,  seizing  her  hand.  "  It  would  kill  my  poor 
old  father  too,  if  I  should  die.  I  cannot  burden  my 
soul  with  your  secrets,  but  save  me — oh,  save  me, 
from  so  dreadful  a  death." 

"  I  have  said  it,  Miss  Walton.  Not  a  hair  of  your 
head  shall  be  hurt." 

"  What  do  you  advise  then,  madam  ?  "  asked  the 
man  satirically.  "  Shall  we  invite  Mr.  Walton  and 
the  sheriff  up  to-morrow  to  take  a  look  at  the  room 
as  it  now  stands?  " 

"I  advise  nothing,"  said  the  woman  harshly. 
"  I  only  say  in  a  way  you  understand,  not  a  hair  of 
this  girl's  head  shall  be  hurt." 

"  Thank  God,  oh,  thank  God,"  murmured  Annie, 
with  a  feeling  of  confidence  and  inexpressible  relief, 
for  there  was  that  in  the  woman's  bearing  and  tone 
which  gave  evidence  of  unusual  power  over  her  asso 
ciate  in  crime. 

Then  Annie  added,  still  clinging  to  a  hand  un- 
sanctified  by  the  significant  plain  ring,  "  I  hope  you 
will  keep  my  companion  safe  from  harm  also." 

During  the  scene  between  Annie  and  her  strange 
protectress,  who  was  evidently  a  sad  wreck  of  a  beau 
tiful  and  gifted  woman,  Gregory  had  sunk  into  a 
chair  through  weakness  and  shame,  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands. 


"PROMISE  OR  DIEr  213 

The  woman  turned  toward  him  with  instinctive 
antipathy,  and  asked,  "  How  is  it,  sir,  you  have  left 
this  young  girl  to  meet  this  danger  alone  !  " 

Gregory's  white,  drawn  face  turned  scarlet  as  he 
answered  : 

.  "  Because  I  am  like  you  and  this  man  here,  and 
not  like  Miss  Walton,  who  is  an  angel  of  truth  and 
goodness." 

"'Like  us'  indeed,"  said  she  disdainfully.  "I 
don't  know  that  you  have  proved  us  cowards  yet. 
And  could  you  be  bad  and  mean  enough  to  see  this 
brave  maiden  slain  before  your  eyes,  and  go  away  in 
silence  to  save  your  own  miserable  self?  " 

"  For  aught  I  know  I  could,"  answered  he  sav 
agely.  "  I  would  like  to  see  what  mean,  horrible, 
loathsome  thing,  this  hateful,  hated  thing  I  call  my 
self  could  not  do." 

Gregory  showed  in  a  way  fearful  to  witness  what 
intense  hostility  and  loathing  a  spirit  naturally  noble 
can  feel  toward  itself  when  action  and  conscience  are 
at  war. 

"Ah,"  said  the  woman  bitterly,  "Now  you 
speak  a  language  I  know  well.  Why  should  I  fear 
the  judgment-day?  "  she  added,  with  a  gloomy  light 
in  her  eyes,  as  if  communing  with  herself.  "  Nothing 
worse  can  be  said  of  me  then,  than  I  will  say  now. 
But,"  she  sneered,  turning  sharply  to  Gregory,  "  I  do 
not  think  I  have  fallen  so  low  as  you." 

"  Probably  not,"  he  replied,  with  a  grim  laugh, 
and  his  significant  shrug  which  he  had  learned 
abroad.  "  I  will  not  dispute  my  bad  preeminence. 


214  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Come,  Vight,  or  whatever  your  name  is,"  he  con 
tinued,  rising,  "  make  up  your  mind  quickly  what 
you  are  going  to  do.  I  am  a  weak  man,  morally  and 
physically.  If  you  intend  to  shoot  me,  or  let  your 
dog  make  a  meal  of  me,  let  us  have  it  over  as  soon 
as  possible.  Since  Miss  Walton  is  safe,  I  am  as  well 
prepared  now  as  I  ever  shall  be." 

"  I  intreat  you,"  pleaded  Annie,  still  clinging  to 
the  woman,  "  don't  let  any  harm  come  to  him." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  touching  him  ?  "  said  the 
man  gruffly.  Then  turning  to  Gregory  he  asked, 
"  Do  you  still  promise  not  to  use  your  knowledge 
against  me  ?  You  might  do  me  more  harm  in  New 
York  than  here." 

"  I  have  promised  once,  and  that  is  enough," 
said  Oregory  irritably.  "  I  keep  my  word  for  good 
or  evil,  though  you  can't  know  that,  and  are  fools  for 
trusting  me."" 

"  I'll  trust  neither  of  you,"  said  the  man  with  an 
oath.  "  Here,  Dencie,  I  must  talk  with  you  alone. 
I'm  willing  to  do  anything  that's  reasonable,  but  I'm 
not  going  to  prison  again  alive,  mark  that "  (with  a 
dreadful  oath).  "  Don't  leave  this  room  or  I  won't 
answer  for  the  consequences,"  he  said  sternly  to 
Gregory  and  Annie,  at  the  same  time  looking  sig 
nificantly  at  the  dog. 

Then  he  and  the  woman  went  into  the  rear 
apartment,  and  there  was  an  earnest  and  somewhat 
angry  consultation. 

Gregory  sat  down  and  leaned  his  head  on  the 
table  in  a  manner  that  showed  he  had  passed  beyond 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE"  21 5 

despondency  and  fear  into  despairing  indifference  .as 
to  what  became  of  him.  He  felt  that  henceforth  he 
must  be  simply  odious  to  Miss  Walton — that  she 
would  only  tolerate  his  presence  as  long  as  it  was 
necessary,  veiling  her  contempt  by  mere  politeness. 
In  his  shame  and  weakness  he  would  almost  rather 
die  than  meet  her  true,  honest  eyes  again. 

Annie  had  the  courage  of  principle  and  firm 
resolve,  rather  than  that  which  is  natural  and  phy 
sical.  The  thought  of  sudden  and  violent  death 
appalled  her.  If  her  impulsive  nature  were  excited, 
like  that  of  a  soldier  in  battle,  she  could  forget  dan 
ger.  If  in  her  bed  at  home  she  were  wasting  with 
disease,  she  would  soon  have  submitted  to  the  Di 
vine  will  with  child-like  trust.  But  her  whole  be 
ing  shrank  inexpressibly  from  violent  and  unnatural 
death.  Never  before  did  life  seem  so  sweet.  Never 
before  was  there  so  much  to  live  for.  She  could 
have  been  a  martyr  in  any  age  and  in  any  horrible 
form  for  conscience'  sake,  but  she  would  have  met 
her  fate  tremblingly,  shrinkingly,  and  with  intense 
longings  for  life.  And  yet  with  all  this  instinctive 
dread,  her  faith  in  God  and  his  word  of  promise 
would  not  fail.  But  instead  of  standing  calmly  erect 
on  her  faith,  and  confronting  destiny,  it  was  her 
nature  in  such  terrible  emergencies,  to  cling  in  lov 
ing  and  utter  dependence,  and  obey. 

She  therefore  in  no  respect  shared  Gregory's 
indifference,  but  was  keenly  alive  to  the  situation. 

At  first,  with  her  hand  upon  her  heart  to  still  its 
wild  throbbings,  she  listened  intently,  and  tried  to 


2i6  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

catch  the  drift  of  the  fateful  conference  within. 
This  being  vain,  her  eyes  wandered  hurriedly  around 
the  room.  Standing  thus,  she  unconsciously  com 
pleted  a  strange  picture  in  that  incongruous  place, 
with  her  dejected  companion  on  one  side,  and 
the  great  dog,  eying  her  savagely,  on  the  other. 
Gregory's  despairing  attitude  impressed  her  deeply. 
In  a  sudden  rush  of  pity  she  felt  that  he  was  not  as 
cowardly  as  he  had  seemed.  A  woman  with  diffi 
culty  forgives  this  sin.  His  harsh  condemnation  and 
evident  detestation  of  himself  impelled  her  generous 
nature  instinctively  to  take  the  part  of  his  weak 
and  wronged  self.  She  had  early  been  taught  to 
pity  those  whom  evil  is  destroying,  rather  than  con 
demn.  In  all  his  depravity  he  did  not  repel  her,  for 
though  proud,  he  had  no  petty,  shallow  vanity  ;  and 
~the  evident  fact  that  he  suffered  so  deeply  because 
of  his  sin,  disarmed  her. 

Moreover,  companionship  in  trouble  which  she 
felt  was  partly  her  fault,  drew  her  toward  him,  and 
stepping  to  his  side,  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoul 
der  and  said  gently : 

"  Cheer  up,  my  friend  ;  I  understand  you  better 
than  you  do  yourself.  God  will  bring  us  safely 
through." 

He  shrank  even  from  her  touch,  and  said  drear 
ily  :  "  With  better  reason  than  yonder  woman  I  can 
say,  '  I  am  not  fit  for  you  to  touch  ; '  as  for  God,  he 
has  nothing  to  do  with  me." 

Without  removing  her  hand,  she  answered  kindly 
"  I  do  not  thiirk  either  of  those  things  is  true.  But, 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE."  2Y, 

Mr.  Gregory,  what  will  they  do  with  us  ?     They  will 
not  dare —  " 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the 
strangely  assorted  couple  into  whose  crime-stained 
hands  they  had  so  unexpectedly  fallen.  Both  felt 
but  little  trust  could  be  placed  in  such  perverted  and 
passion-swept  natures — that  they  would  be  guided 
by  their  fears,  impulses,  and  interests.  Annie's  main 
hope  was  in  the  hold  she  had  on  the  woman's  sym 
pathies  ;  but  the  latter,  as  she  entered,  wore  a  some 
what  sullen  and  disappointed  look,  as  if  she  had  not 
been  given  her  own  way.  Annie  at  once  stepped  to 
her  side  and  again  took  her  hand,  as  if  she  were  her 
best  hope  of  safety.  It  was  evident  that  her  confi 
dence  and  unshrinking  touch  affected  the  poor  crea 
ture  deeply,  and  her  hand  closed  over  Annie's  in  a 
way  that  was  reassuring. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  scarcely  like  to  trust 
yourselves  to  me  or  my  dog,"  said  the  man  with  a 
grim  laugh.  "  What's  more,  I've  no  time  to  bother 
with  you.  Since  my  .companion  here  feels  she  owes 
you  something,  Miss,  she  can  now  pay  you  a  hun 
dred-fold.  But  follow  her  directions  closely  as  you 
value  your  lives,"  and  he  left  the  house  with  the 
dog.  Soon  after,  they  heard  in  the  forest  what 
seemed  the  notes  of  the  whippowill  repeated  three 
times,  but  it  was  so  near  and  importunate  that  Annie 
was  startled,  and  the  woman's  manner  indicated  that 
she  was  not  listening  to  a  bird.  After  a  few  mo 
ments  she  said  gloomily: 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  promised  you  should  receive  no 
10 


21 8  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

harm,  and  I  will  keep   my  word.     I  hoped  I  could 
send  you  directly  home  to-night,  but  that's  impossi 
ble.     I  can  do  much  with  Vight,  but  not  everything. 
He  has  sworn  never  to  go  to  prison  again  alive,  and 
none  of  our  lives  would  be  worth  much  if  he  had  to 
take  them  in  order  to  escape.     We  meant  to  leave 
this    region   before    many  months,  for  troublesome 
stories  are  getting  around,  and  now  we  must  go  a! 
once.     I  will  take  you  to   a  place   of  safety, /ron 
which  you  can  return  to-morrow.     Come." 

"  But  father  will  go  wild  with  anxiety,"  criec 
Annie  wringing  her  hands. 

"  It  is  the  best  I  can  do,"  said  the  woman  sadly. 
"  Come,  we  have  no  time  to  lose." 

She  put  on  a  woollen  hood,  and  taking  a  long, 
slender  staff,  led  the  way  out  into  the  darkness. 

They  felt  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  fol 
low,  which  they  did  in  silence.  They  did  not  go 
back  toward  their  broken  wagon,  but  continued  on 
down  the  wheel-track  where  their  accident  occurred. 
Suddenly  the  woman  left,  taking  a  path  through  the 
woods,  and  after  proceeding  with  difficulty  some  dis 
tance,  stopped,  and  lighted  a  small  lantern  she  had 
carried  under  her  shawl.  Even  with  the  aid  of  this 
their  progress  was  painful  and  precarious  in  the 
steeply  descending  rocky  path,  which  had  so  many 
intricate  windings  that  both  Annie  and  Gregory  felt 
that  they  were  indeed  being  led  into  a  terra  incog 
nita  !  Annie  was  consumed  with  anxiety  as  to 
the  issue  of  their  strange  adventure,  but  believed 
confidence  in  her  guide  to  be  the  wisest  course. 


"PROMISE  OR  DIE.' 


2I9 


Gregory  was  too  weary  and  indifferent  to  care  for 
himself,  and  stumbled  on  mechanically. 

At  last  he  said  sullenly,  "  Madam,  I  can  go  no 
farther.  I  may  as  well  die  here  as  anywhere." 

"You  must  go,"  she  said  sharply;  "  for  my  sake 
and  Miss  Walton's,  if  not  for  your  own.  Besides, 
it's  not  much  farther.  What  I  do  to-night  must  be 
done  rightly." 

"  Well  then,  while  there  is  breath  left,  Miss  Wal 
ton  shall  have  the  benefit  of  it." 

"  May  we  not  rest  a  few  minutes  ?  "  asked  Annie. 
"  I  too  am  very  tired." 

"  Yes,  before  long  at  the  place  where  you  must 
pass  the  night." 

The  path  soon  came  out  into  another  wheel-track 
which  seemingly  led  down  a  deep  ravine.  Descend 
ing  this  a  little  way,  they  reached  an  opening  in 
which  was  the  dusky  outline  of-a  small  house. 

"  Here  we  part,"  said  their  guide,  taking  Annie's 
hand,  while  Gregory  sank  exhausted  on  a  rock  near. 
"  The  old  woman  and  her  son  who  live  in  that  house 
will  give  you  shelter,  and  to-morrow  you  must  find 
your  best  way  home.  This  seems  poor  return  for 
your  kindness,  but  it's  in  keeping  with  my  miserable 
life,  which  is  as  dark  and  wild  as  the  unknown  flinty 
path  we  came." 

"  Then  lead  trys  life  no  longer.  Stay  with  us, 
and  I  will  help  you  to  better  things,"  said  Annie 
earnestly. 

The  look  of  intense  longing  on  the  woman's  face 
as  the  light  of  the  flickering  lantern  fell  on  it  would 
haunt  Annie  to  her  dying  day. 


220  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

11  Oh  that  I  might !  "  she  groaned.  "  Oh  that  I 
might !  A  more  fearful  bondage  never  cursed  a 
human  soul  !  " 

"And  why  can  you  not? "pleaded  Annie,  put 
ting  her  hand  on  the  trembling  woman's  shoulder. 
"  You  have  seen  better  days.  You  were  meant  for 
good  and  noble  life.  You  can't  sin  unfeelingly. 
Then  why  sin  at  all  ?  Break  these  chains,  and  by- 
and-by  peace  in  this  life  and  heaven  in  the  life  to 
to  come  will  reward  you." 

The  woman  sat  down  by  the  roadside,  and  for  a 
moment  her  whole  frame  seemed  convulsed  with 
sobs.  At  last  she  said  brokenly : 

"You  plead  as  my  good  angel  did  before  it  left 
me — but  it's  no  use — it's  too  late.  I  have  indeed 
seen  better  days,  pure,  happy  days  ;  and  so  has  he. 
We  once  stood  high  in  the  respect  of  all.  But  he  fell, 
and  I  fell  in  ways  I  can't  explain.  You  cannot  un 
derstand  that  as  love  binds  with  silken  cords,  so 
crime  may  bind  with  iron  chains.  No  more — say 
no  more.  You  only  torment  me,"  she  broke  in 
harshly,  as  Annie  was  about  to  speak  again.  "  You 
cannot  understand.  How  could  you  ?  We  love, 
hate,  and  fear  each  other  at  the  same  time,  and 
death  only  can  part  us.  But  that  'may  soon — that 
may  soon,"  and  she  clenched  her  hands  with  a  dark 
look. 

"  But  enough  of  this.  I  have  too  much  to  do  to 
tire  myself  this  way.  You  must  go  to  that  house — 
I  cannot.  Old  Mrs.  Tompkins  and  her  son  will  give 
you  shelter.  I  don't  wish  to  get  them  into  trouble. 


"PROMISE   OR  DIE."  221 

There  will  be  a  close  investigation  into  all  this.  I 
know  what  your  father's  disposition  is.  And  now 
farewell.  The  only  good  thing  about  me  is,  I  shall 
still  pray  for  you,  the  only  one  who  has  ever  treated 
me  like  a  woman  since — since — since  I  fell  into  hell," 
she  said  in  a  low,  hoarse  tone,  and  printing  a  passion 
ate  kiss  on  Annie's  hand,  she  blew  out  her  lantern, 
and  vanished  in  the  darkness. 

It  seemed  to  swallow  her  up  and  become  a  type 
of  the  mystery  and  fate  that  enshrouded  the  forlorn 
creature.  Beyond  the  bare  fact  that  she  took  the 
train  the  following  morning  with  the  man  she  called 
'  Vight,'  Annie  never  heard  of  her  again.  Still  there 
was  hope  for  the  wretched  wanderer.  However  dark 
and  hidden  her  paths,  the  eyes  of  a  merciful  God 
ever  followed  her,  and  to  that  God  Annie  prayed 
unceasingly  in  her  behalf. 

NOTE. — This  chapter  has  some  historic  basis.  The  man  called 
"  Vight "  is  not  altogether  an  imaginary  character,  for  a  desperate  and 
successful  counterfeiter  dwelt  for  a  time  among  the  mountains  on  the 
Hudson,  plying  his  nefarious  trade.  It  is  said  that  he  took  life  more 
than  once  to  escape  defection. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
IN  THE  DEPTHS. 

A  FTER  the  departure  of  their  strange  guide, 
TV  who  had  befriended  them  the  best  she  could, 
Gregory  at  once  went  to  the  house  and  knocked. 
There  was  a  movement  within,  and  a  quavering  voice 
asked : 

"Who  is  there?" 

"  Friends  who  have  lost  their  way,  and  need 
shelter." 

"  I  don't  know  about  lettin'  strangers  in  this 
time  o'  night,"  answered  the  voice. 

"  There  are  only  two  of  us,"  said  Annie.  "  Per 
haps  you  know  who  Miss  Walton  is.  I  entreat  you 
to  let  us  in." 

"  Miss  Walton,  Miss  Walton,  sartin,  I  know  who 
she  is.  But  I  can't  believe  she's  here." 

"  Our  wagon  broke  down  this  afternoon,  and  we 
have  lost  our  way,"  explained  Gregory. 

Again  there  was  a  stir  inside,  and  soon  a  glimmer 
of  light  After  a  few  moments  the  door  was  opened 
slightly,  and  a  woman's  voice  asked  apprehensively : 

"  Be  you  sure  it's  Miss  Walton  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Annie,  "you  need  have  no  fears. 
Hold  the  light,  and  see  for  yourself." 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  223 

This  the  woman  did,  and,  apparently  satisfied, 
gave  them  admittance  at  once. 

She  seemed  quite  aged,  and  a  few  gray  locks 
straggled  out  from  under  her  dingy  cap,  which  sug 
gested  anything  but  a  halo  around  her  wrinkled, 
withered  face.  A  ragged  calico  wrapper  encased 
her  tall  gaunt  form,  and  altogether  she  did  not  make 
a  very  promising  hostess. 

Before  she  could  ask  her  unexpected  guests  any 
further  questions,  the  cry  pf  a  whippowill  was  again 
heard  three  times.  She  listened  with  a  started, 
frightened  manner.  The  sounds  were  repeated,  and 
she  seemed  satisfied. 

"Isn't  it  rather  late  in  the  season  for  whippo- 
wills  ?  "  asked  Annie  uneasily,  for  this  bird's  note, 
now  heard  again,  seemed  like  a  signal. 

"  I  dunno  nothin'  about  whippowills,"  said  the 
woman  stolidly.  "  The  pesky  bird  kind  o'  started 
me  at  first.  Don't  like  to  hear  'em  round.  They 
bring  bad  luck.  I  can't  do  much  for  you,  Miss  Wal 
ton,  in  this  poor  place.  But  such  as  'tis  you're  wel 
come  to  stay.  My  son  has  been  off  haulin*  wood — 
guess  he  won't  be  back  now  afore  to-morrow." 

"  When  do  you  think  he  will  come  ? "  asked 
Annie  anxiously. 

"  Well,  not  much  afore  night,  I  guess." 

"  What  will  my  poor  father  do  ?  "  moaned  Annie. 
"  He  will  be  out  all  night  looking  for  us." 

"  Sure  now,  will  he  though  ?  "  said  the  woman, 
showing  some  traces  of  anxiety  herself.  "  Well, 
Miss,  you'll  have  to  stay  till  my  son  gits  back,  for 


224 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


it's  a  long  way  round  through  the  valley  to  yout 
house." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait  patiently  till 
morning.  The  woman  showed  Gregory  up  into  a 
loft  over  the  one  room  of  the  house,  saying : 

"  Here's  where  my  son  sleeps.  It's  the  best  I 
can  do,  though  I  s'pose  you  ain't  used  to  such 
beds." 

He  threw  his  exhausted  form  on  the  wretched 
couch,  and  soon  found  respite  in  troubled  sleep. 

Annie  dozed  away  the  night  in  a  creaky  old 
rocking-chair,  the  nearest  approach  to  a  thing  of 
comfort  that  the  hovel  contained.  The  old  woman 
seemingly  had  been  so  "started"  that  she  needed 
the  sedative  of  a  short  clay  pipe,  highly  colored 
indeed,  still  a  connoisseur  in  meerschaums  would 
scarcely  covet  it.  This  she  would  remove  from  her 
mouth  from  time  to  time,  as  she  crouched  on  a  low 
stool  in  the  chimney  corner,  to  shake  her  head 
ominously.  Perhaps  she  knew  more  about  whip- 
powills  than  she  admitted.  At  last  it  seemed  that 
the  fumes,  that  half  strangled  Annie,  had  their  wont 
ed  effect,  and  she  hobbled  to  her  bed  and  was  soon 
giving  discordant  evidence  of  her  peace.  Annie 
then  noiselessly  opened  a  window,  that  she  too  might 
breathe. 

When  Gregory  woke  the  next  morning,  it  was 
broad  day.  He  felt  so  stiff  and  ill  he  could  scarcely 
move,  and  with  difficulty  made  his  way  to  the  room 
below.  The  old  woman  was  at  the  stove,  frying 
some  sputtering  pork,  and  its  rank  odor  was  most 


IN  THE  DEPTHS. 


225 


repulsive  to  the  fastidious  habitut  of  metropolitan 
clubs. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Walton  ?  "  he  asked  in  quick 
alarm. 

"  Only  gone  to  the  spring  after  water,"  replied 
the  woman  shortly.  "  Why  didn't  you  git  up  and 
git  it  for  her?" 

"  I  would  if  I  had  known,"  he  muttered,  and  he 
escaped  from  the  intolerable  air  of  the  room  to  the 
door,  where  he  met  Annie,  fresh  and  rosy  from  her 
morning  walk  and  toilet  at  the  brook  that  brawled 
down  the  ravine. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  look  quite  ill,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  am  so  sorry  it  has  all  happened." 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly,  and  then  said  :  "  I 
see  you  look  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  am  ill, 
Miss  Walton,  and  I  wish  I  were  dead.  You  cannot 
feel  toward  me  half  the  contempt  I  have  for  my 
self." 

"  Now,  honestly,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  have  no  con 
tempt  for  you  at  all." 

He  turned  away  and  shook  his  head  dejectedly. 

"  But  I  mean  what  I  say,"  she  continued  earn 
estly. 

"  Then  it  is  your  goodness,  and  not  my  desert." 

"  As  I  told  you  last  night,  so  again  I  sincerely 
say,  I  think  I  understand  you  better  than  you  do 
yourself." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  he  answered  with  gloomy 
emphasis.  "  Your  intuitions  are  quick,  I  admit.  I 
10* 


226  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR, 

have  never  known  your  equal  in  that  respect.  But 
there  are  some  things  I  am  glad  to  think  that  you 
never  can  understand.  You  can  never  know  what  a 
proud  man  suffers  when  he  has  utterly  lost  hope  and 
self-respect.  Though  I  acted  so  mean  a  part  myself, 
I  can  still  appreciate  your  nobleness,  courage,  and 
fidelity  to  conscience.  I  thought  such  heroism  be 
longed  only  to  the  past." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  wish  I  could  make  you  under 
stand  me,"  said  Annie  with  real  distress  in  her  tone. 
"  I  am  not  brave,  I  was  more  afraid  than  you. 
Indeed,  I  was  in  an  agony  of  fear.  I  refused  that 
man's  demand  because  I  was  compelled  to.  If  you 
looked  at  things  as  I  do,  you  would  have  done  the 
same." 

"  Please  say  no  more,  Miss  Walton,"  said  he,  his 
face  distorted  by  an  expression  of  intense  self-loath 
ing.  "  Do  not  try  to  palliate  my  course.  I  would 
much  rather  you  would  call  my  cowardly  selfishness 
and  lack  of  principle  by  their  right  names.  The  best 
thing  I  can  do  for  the  world  is  to  get  out  of  it,  and 
from  present  feelings,  this  '  good-riddance '  will  soon 
occur.  Will  you  excuse  me  if  I  sit  down  ?  "  And  he 
sank  upon  the  door-step  in  utter  weakness. 

Annie  had  placed  her  pail  of  water  on  the  step 
and  forgotten  it  in  her  wish  to  cheer  and  help  this 
bitterly  wounded  spirit. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  you  are 
indeed  ill  in  body  and  mind,  and  you  take  a  wrong 
and  morbid  view  of  everything.  My  heart  aches  to 
show  you  how  complete  and  perfect  a  remedy  there 


IN  THE  DEPTHS.  22J 

is  for  all  this.     It  almost  seems  as  if  you  were  dying 
with  thirst  with  that  brook  yonder  running — " 

"There  is  no  remedy  for  me,"  interrupted  he 
almost  harshly.  Then  he  added  in  a  weary  tone, 
pressing  his  hand  on  his  throbbing  brow :  '*  Forgive 
me,  Miss  Walton,  you  see  what  I  am.  Please  waste 
no  more  thought  on  me." 

"  If  yer  want  any  breakfast  to-day,  yer  better 
bring  that  water,"  called  the  old  woman  from  within. 

Annie  gave  him  a  troubled,  anxious  look,  and 
then  silently  carried  in  the  pail. 

"  Have  you  any  tea?"  she  asked,  not  liking  the 
odor  of  the  coffee. 

"  Mighty  little,"  was  the  short  answer. 

"  Please  let  me  have  some,  and  I  will  send  you  a 
pound  of  our  best  in  its  place,"  said  Annie. 

"  I  hain't  such  a  fool  as  to  lose  that  bargain,"  and 
the  old  woman  hobbled  with  alacrity  to  a  cupboard  ; 
but  to  Annie's  dismay  the  hidden  treasure  had  been 
hoarded  too  near  the  even  more  prized  tobacco,  and 
seemed  redolent  with  the  rank  odor  of  some  unsavory 
preparation  of  that  remarkable  weed  which  is  con 
jured  into  so  many  and  diverse  forms.  But  she 
brewed  a  little  as  best  she  could  before  eating  any 
breakfast  herself,  and  brought  it  to  Gregory  as  he 
still  sat  on  the  step  leaning  against  the  door-post. 

"  Please  swallow  this  as  medicine,"  she  said. 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  cannot,"  he  replied. 

"Please  do,"  she  urged,  "as  a  favor  to  me.  I 
made  it  myself;  and  I  can't  eat  any  breakfast  till  I 
have  seen  you  take  this." 


228  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

He  at  once  complied,  though  with  a  wry  face. 

"  There,"  said  she  with  a  touch  of  playfulness. 
"I  have  seldom  received  a  stronger  compliment. 
After  this  compliance  I  think  I  could  venture  to  ask 
anything  of  you." 

"  The  tea  is  like  fnyself,"  he  answered.  "  You 
brought  to  it  skilled  hands  and  pure  spring  water, 
and  yet  from  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself,  it  was  a 
villanous  compound.  Please  don't  ask  me  to  take 
any  more.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  an  old  saying: 
'Like  dislikes  like.'" 

She  determined  that  he  should  not  yield  to  his 
morbid  despondency,  but  rfad  too  much  tact  to  argue 
with  him  ;  therefore  she  said  kindly:  "  We  never  did 
agree  .very  well,  Mr.  Gregory,  and  don't  now.  But 
before  many  hours  I  hope  I  can  give  you  a  cup  of 
tea  and  something  with  it  more  to  your  taste.  I 
must  admit  that  I  am  ready  even  for  this  dreadful 
breakfast,  that  threatens  to  destroy  my  powers  of 
digestion  in  one  fatal  hour.  You  see  what  a  poor 
subject  I  am  for  romance,"  and  she  smilingly  turned 
away  to  a  meal  that  gave  her  a  glimpse  of  how  the 
"  other  half  of  the  world  lives." 

Before  she  had  finished,  the  sound  of  wheels  and 
horses'  hoofs  coming  rapidly  up  the  glen  brought 
her  to  the  door,  and  with  joy  she  recognized  a  near 
neighbor  of  her  father's,  a  sturdy,  kind-hearted  far 
mer,  who  had  joined  in  the  search  for  the  missing 
ones  the  moment  he  learned,  in  the  dawn  of  that 
morning,  that  they  had  not  returned. 

He  gave  a  glad  shout  as  he  saw  Annie's  form  in 


IN   THE  DEPTHS. 


229 


the  doorway,  and  to  her,  his  broad,  honest  face  was 
like  that  of  an  angel. 

All  are  beautiful  to  those  they  help. 

"  Your  father  is  in  a  dreadful  state,  Miss  Annie," 
said  Farmer  Jones  ;  "  but  I  told  him  if  he  would  only 
stay  home  and  wait,  I,  and  a  few  other  neighbors, 
would  soon  find  you.  He  was  up  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  ever  since  twelve  o'clock  last  night.  Then 
he  came  home  to  see  if  you  hadn't  returned  some 
other  way:  I'm  usually  out  as  as  soon  as  it's  light, 
so  I  hailed  him  as  he  passed  and  asked  what  on 
earth  he  was  up  for  at  that  time  of  day.  He  told 
me  his  trouble,  so  I  hitched  up  my  light  wagon  and 
got  to  your  house  as  soon  as  he  did.  When  he 
found  you  hadn't  come  yet,  he  was  for  starting  right 
for  the  mountains,  but  I  saw  he  wasn't  fit,  so  I  says, 
'  Mr.  Walton,  you'll  just  miss  'em.  They've  taken  a 
wrong  road,  or  the  wagon  has  broken  down,  but 
they'll  be  home  before  ten  o'clock.  Now  send  Jeff 
up  the  road  you  expected  them  on.  I'll  send  Mr. 
Harris,  who  lives  just  beyond  me,  out  on  the  roa'd 
they  took  first.  My  horse  is  fast,  and  I'll  go  round 
up  this  valley,  and  in  this  way  we'll  soon  scour  every 
road  ;  '  and  so  with  much  coaxing  I  got  him  to  prom 
ise  to  stay  till  I  returned.  So  jump  in  quick,  and  I'll 
have  you  home  in  little  over  an  hour." 

"  But  we  can't  leave  Mr.  Gregory  here.  Let  him 
go  first.  He  is  ill,  and  needs  attention  at  once." 

"  Miss  Walton,  please  return  at  once  to  your 
father,"  said  Walter  quickly.  "  It  is  your  duty.  I 
can  wait." 


230  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  No,  Mr.  Gregory,  it  would  not  be  right  to  leave 
you  here,  feeling  as  you  do.  As  soon  as  father 
knows  I  am  safe  his  mind  will  be  at  rest.  I  am  per 
fectly  well,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  ill  you  look." 

"  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  in  a  tone  that  was 
almost  harsh  in  its  decisiveness,  "  I  will  not  return 
now." 

"  I  am  real  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "  that  my 
wagon  is  not  larger,  but  I  took  the  best  thing  that  I 
had  for  fast  driving  over  rough  roads.  Come,  Miss 
Walton,  your  friend  has  settled  it,  and  if  he  is  sick  he 
had  better  come  more  slowly  in  an  easier  carriage." 

After  cordially  thanking  the  old  woman  for  such 
rude  hospitality  as  she  had  bestowed,  and  renewing 
her  promise  to  send  ample  recompense,  she  turned 
with  gentle  courtesy  to  Gregory  and  assured  him 
that  he  would  not  have  to  wait  long. 

He  gave  her  a  quick,  searching  look,  and  said  : 
"  Miss  Walton,  I  do  not  understand  how  you  can 
speak  to  me  in  this  way.  But  go  at  once.  Do  not 
keep  your  father  in  suspense  any  longer." 

"  I  hope  we  will  find  you  better  when  we  come 
for  you,"  she  said  kindly. 

"  It  were  better  you  found  me  dead,"  he  said  in 
sudden  harshness,  but  which  was  toward  himself,  not 
her. 

So  she  understood  it,  and,  waving  her  hand  en 
couragingly,  was  driven  rapidly  away. 

As  they  rode  along  she  related  to  Mr.  Jones  the 
events  already  known  to  the  reader,  but  carefully 
shielding  Gregory  from  blame.  She  also  satisfied 


IN   THE  DEPTHS,  2  }  I 

her  companion's  evident  curiosity  about  the  young 
man  by  stating  so  frankly  all  it  was  proper  for  him 
to  know  that  he  had  no  suspicion  of  anything  con 
cealed.  She  explained  his  last  and  unusual  expres 
sion  by  dwelling  with  truth  on  the  fact  that  Gregory 
appeared  seriously  ill  and  was  deeply  depressed  in 
spirits. 

Mr.  Walton  received  his  daughter  with  a  joy 
beyond  words.  She  was  the  idol  of  his  heart — the 
one  object  on  earth  that  almost  rivalled  his  "  treasure 
in  heaven."  His  mind  had  dwelt  in  agonized  sus 
pense  on  a  thousand  possibilities  of  evil  during  the 
prolonged  hours  of  her  absence,  and  now  that  he 
clasped  her  again,  and  was  assured  of  her  safety,  he 
lifted  his  eyes  heavenward  with  heart  overflowing 
with  gratitude. 

But  Annie's  success  in  keeping  up  before  him 
was  brief.  The  strain  had  been  a  little  too  severe. 
She  soon  gave  way  to  nervous  prostration  and  head 
ache,  and  was  compelled  to  retire  to  her  rooni 
instead  of  returning  for  Gregory  as  she  had  in- 
tended. 

But  he  was  promptly  sent  for,  Miss  Eulie  going  in 
her  place,  and  taking  every  appliance  possible  for 
his  comfort. 

She  found  him  in  Mrs.  Tompkins's  hovel,  sitting  in 
the  creaky  arm-chair  that  Annie  had  occupied  the 
night  before,  and 'enduring  with  a  white  grim  face 
the  increasing  suffering  of  his  illness.  He  seemed 
to  have  reached  the  depths  of  despair,  and,  believing 


232  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  end  near,  determined  to  meet  it  with  more  than 
Indian  stoicism. 

Many,  in  their  suicidal  blindness  and  remorse, 
pass  sentence  upon  themselves,  and  weakly  deliver 
their  souls  into  the  keeping  of  that  inexorable  jailer, 
Despair,  forgetting  the  possibilities — nay,  certainties 
of  good  that  ever  dwell  in  God.^If  man  had  no 
Vfcetter  friend  than  himself,  his  prospects  would  be 
sombre  indeed.  Many  a  one  has  condemned  himself 
and  sunk  into  the  apathy  of  death,  but  He  who  came 
to  seek  and  save  the  lost  has  lifted  him  with  the 
arms  of  forgiving  love,  and  helped  him  back  to  the 
safety  and  happiness  of  the  fold^4  Satan  only,  never 
the  Saviour,  bids  the  sinner  despair. 

But  poor  Gregory  was  taking  advice  from  his 
enemy,  and  not  his  Friend.  During  the  long  hours 
of  pain  and  almost  mortal  weakness  of  that  dreary 
morning,  he  acknowledged  himself  vanquished — ut 
terly  defeated  in  the  battle  of  life.  As  old  monkish 
legends  teach,  the  devil  might  have  carried  him  off 
bodily  and  he  would  not  have  resisted.  In  his  pros 
trated  nature,  but  one  element  of  strength  was  ap 
parent,  a  perverted  pride  that  rose  like  a  shattered, 
blackened  shaft,  the  remaining  prominent  relic  of 
seemingly  utter  ruin. 

At  first  he  coldly  declined  the  cordial  and  nour 
ishment  Miss  Eulie  brought,  and  said,  with  a  quiet 
ness  that  did  not  comport  with  trie  meaning  of  his 
words,  that  she  had  better  leave  him  to  himself,  and 
that  Mrs.  Tompkins's  son  could  have  a  grave  ready 


IN  THE  DEPTHS. 


233 


for  him  somewhere  in  the  woods  by  the  time  it  was 
required. 

Miss  Eulie  was  shocked,  rinding  in  these  words 
and  his  general  appearance  proof  that  he  was  more 
seriously  ill  than  anticipated. 

He  was  indeed  ;  but  his  malady  was  rather  that 
of  a  morbid  mind  depressing  an^enfeebled  body, 
than  actual  disease.  But  mental  distress  could 
speedily  kill  a  man  like  Gregory. 

Miss  Eulie  soon  brought  him  to  terms  by  saying 
"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  see  I  am  alone.  Mr.  Walton 
was  too  exhausted  to  accompany  me,  and  Annie 
did  not  send  any  of  the  neighbors,  as  she  thought 
the  presence  of  strangers  would  be  irksome  to  you." 

"  She  said  she  would  come  herself,  but  she  has 
had  time  to  think  and  judge  me  rightly,"  muttered 
he,  interrupting  her. 

"  No,  Mr.  Gregory,"  Miss  Eulie  hastened  to  say; 
"  you  do  her  wrong.  She  was  too  ill  to  come,  as 
she  intended  and  wished,  and  so  with  many  anxious 
charges  sent  me  in  her  place.  I  am  but  a  woman 
and  dependent  on  your  courtesy.  I  cannot  compel 
you  to  go  with  me.  But  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
wrong  my  brother's  hospitality,  and  make  Miss  Wal 
ton's  passing  indisposition  serious,  by  refusing  to 
come  with  me.  If  you  did,  she  would  rise  from  her 
sick-bed,  and  come  herself." 

Gregory  at  once  rose  and  said,  "  I  can  make 
no  excuse  for  myself.  I  seem  fated  to  do  and 
say  the  worst  things  possible  under  the  circum 
stances." 


234 


OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 


"You  are  ill,"  said  Miss  Eulie  kindly,  as  if  that 
explained  everything. 

Declining  aid,  he  tottered  to  the  carriage,  into 
which  Jeff,  with  some  curious  surmises,  speedily 
helped  him. 

Miss  Eulie  made  good  Annie's  promises  to  Mrs. 
Tompkins  fourfold,  and  left  the  shrivelled  dame 
with  a  large  supply  of  one  of  the  elements  of  her 
heaven — tea,  and  with  the  means  of  purchasing  the 
other — tobacco,  besides  other  and  more  substantial 
additions  to  the  old  woman's  meagre  larder. 

Gregory  was  averse  to  conversation  during  the 
long,  slow  ride.  The  jolting,  even  of  the  easy  cush 
ioned  carriage,  was  exceedingly  painful,  and  by  the 
time  they  reached  home  he  was  quite  exhausted. 
Leaning  on  Mr.  Walton's  arm  he  at  once  went  to 
his  room,  and  at  their  urgent  entreaties  forced  him 
self  to  take  a  little  of  the  dainty  supper  that  was 
forthcoming.  But  their  kindly  solicitude  was  cour 
teously  but  coldly  repelled.  Acting  reluctantly 
upon  his  plainly  manifested  wish,  they  soon  left  him 
to  himself,  as  after  his  first  eager  inquiry  after  Miss 
Walton  it  seemed  a  source  of  pain  to  see  or  speak 
to  any  one. 

At  first  his  arm-chair  and  cheery  wood  fire 
formed  a  pale  reflection  of  something  like  comfort, 
but  every  bone  in  his  body  ached  from  the  recent 
cold  he  had  taken.  He  had  just  fever  enough  to 
increase  the  distortion  of  the  images  of  his  morbid 
and  excited  mind.  Hour  after  hour  he  sat,  with 
grim  white  face  and  fixed  stare,  scourging  himself 


IN   THE  DEPTHS. 


235 


with  the  triple  scorpion-whip  of  remorse,  vain  regret, 
and  self-disgust.  But  an  old  and  terrible  emeny  was 
stealing  on  him  to  change  the  nature  of  his  torment 
— neuralgic  headache  ;  and  before  morning  he  was 
walking  the  floor  in  agony,  a  sad  type,  while  the 
world  slept  and  nature  rested,  of  that  large  class,  all 
whose  relations,  physical  and  moral,  are  a  jangling 
discord. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
Miss  WALTON  MADE  OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY  FROM  OTHERS, 

SIMPLE  remedies  and  prolonged  rest  were  suffi 
cient  to  quite  restore  Annie  after  the  serious 
shock  and  strain  she  had  sustained.  She  rose  even 
earlier  than  usual,  and  hastily  dressed  that  she  might 
resume  her  wonted  place  as  mistress  of  her  father's 
household.  In  view  of  her  recent  peril  and  the 
remediless  loss  he  might  have  suffered,  she  was 
doubly  grateful  for  the  privilege  of  ministering  to 
his  wants  and  filling  his  declining  years  with  cheer 
and  comfort. 

She  had  not  been  awake  long  before  Gregory's 
irregular  steps  in  the  adjoining  room  secured  her 
attention  and  caused  anxious  surmises.  But  she  was 
inclined  to  think  that  his  restlessness  resulted  from 
mental  distress  rather  than  physical.  Still  she  did 
not  pity  him  less,  but  rather  more.  Though  so 
young,  she  knew  that  the  "  wounded  spirit"  often 
inflicts  the  keener  agony.  Her  strong  womanly 
nature  was  deeply  moved  in  his  behalf.  As  we  have 
seen,  it  was  her  disposition  rather  to  help  and  sus 
tain,  than  cling  and  look  up.  She  had  a  heart  "  at 
leisure  from  itself  to  sopthe  and  sympathize."  The 
spirit  of  Christian  love  intensified  this  natural  tend- 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  237 

ency,  and  from  the  depths  of  her  soul  she  pitied 
Gregory  and  wished  to  help  him  out  of  a  state  which 
the  Psalmist  with  quaint  force  describes  as  a  "  horri 
ble  pit  and  miry  clay." 

Annie  was  a  very  practical  reformer,  and  deter 
mined  that  a  dainty  breakfast  should  minister  to 
the  outer  man,  before  she  sought  to  apply  a  subtler 
balm  to  the  inner.  Trusting  not  even  to  Zibbie's 
established  skill,  she  prepared  with  her  own  hands 
some  inviting  delicacies,  and  soon  that  which  might 
have  tempted  the  most  exacting  of  epicures  was 
ready. 

Old  Mr.  Walton  shared  and  almost  showed  all 
the  delight  of  the  children  at  seeing  Annie  bustling 
round  again  as  the  good  genius  of  their  home,  and 
Miss  Eulie's  little  sighs  of  content  were  as  frequent 
as  ripples  on  the  shore.  Miss  Eulie  could  sigh  and 
wipe  a  tear  from  the  corner  of  her  eye  in  the  most 
cheerful  and  hope-inspiring  way,  for  somehow  her 
face  shone  with  an  inward  light,  and,  even  in  the 
midst  of  sorrow  and  wet  with  tears,  reminded  one 
of  a  lantern  on  a  stormy  night,  which,  covered  with 
rain-drops,  still  gives  light  and  comfort. 

Breakfast  was  ready,  but  Gregory  did  not  appear. 
Hannah  the  waitress  was  sent  to  his  room,  and  in 
response  to  her  quiet  knock  he  said  sharply : 

"Well?" 

"  Breakfast  is  waiting." 

*  I  do  not  wish  any,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  tone 
that  seemed  resentful,  but  was  only  an  expression 
of  the  intolerable  pain  he  was  suffering.  Hannah 


238  OPENING  A  fHESTNUT  BURR. 

came  down  with  a  scared  look  and  said  she  "  guessed 
something  was  amiss  with  Mr.  Gregory." 

Annie  looked  significantly  at  her  father,  who  im- 
rriediatelyapcended  to  his  guest's  door. 

"  Mr.  tjrregory,  may  I  come  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself.  I  shall  be  better 
soon,"  was  the  response. 

The  door  was  unlocked,  and  Mr.  Walton  entered, 
and  saw  at  once  that  a  gentle  but  strong  will  must 
control  the  sufferer  for  his  own  good.  Mental  and 
nervous  excitement  had  driven  him  close  to  the  line 
where  reason  and  his  own  will  wavered  in  their  deci 
sions,  and  his  irregular,  tottering  steps  became  the 
type  of  the  whole  man.  His  eyes  were  wild  and 
bloodshot.  A  ghastly  pallor  gave  his  haggard  face 
the  look  of  death.  A  damp  chillness  pervaded  the 
heavy  air  of  the  room,  which  in  his  unrest  he  had 
greatly  disordered.  The  fire  had  died  out  and  he 
had  not  even  tried  to  kindle  it  again.  His  brood- 
ings  had  been  so  deep  and  painful  the  earlier  half  of 
the  night  that  he  had  been  oblivious  of  outward  sur 
roundings,  and  then  physical  anguish  became  so 
sharp  that  all  small  elements  of  discomfort  were 
unnoted. 

With  fatherly  solicitude  Mr.  Walton  stepped  up 
to  his  guest,  who  stood  staring  at  him  as  if  he  were 
an  intruder,  and  taking  his  cold  hand,  said : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  must  come  with  me." 

"Where?" 

"  To  the  sitting-room,  where  we  can  take  care  of 


OF  DIFFERENT   CLA  Y. 


239 


you  and  relieve  you.     Come,  I'm  your  physician  for 
the  time  being,  and  doctors  must  be  obeyed." 

Gregory  had  not  undressed  the  night  before,  and, 
encased  in  his  rich  dressing-gown  a%£  with  di 
shevelled  hair,  mechanically  followed  his  host  to  the 
room  below  and  was  placed  on  the  lounge. 

"  Annie  has  prepared  you  a  nice  little  breakfast. 
Won't  you  let  me  bring  it  to  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Walton 
cheerily. 

"  No,"  said  Gregory  abruptly  and  pressing  his 
hands  upon  his  throbbing  temples,  "  the  very 
thought  of  eating  is  horrible.  Please  leave  me.  In 
deed  I  cannot  endure  even  your  kindly  presence." 

Mr.  Walton  looked  perplexed  and  scarcely  knew 
what  to  do,  but  after  a  moment  said  : 

"  Really,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  very  ill.  I  think 
I  had  better  send  for  our  physician  at  once." 

"  I  insist  that  you  do  not,"  said  his  guest  start 
ing  up.  "  What  could  a  stupid  country  doctor  do 
for  me,  with  his  owl-like  examination  of  my  tongue 
and  clammy  fingering  of  my  pulse,  but  drive  me 
mad  ?  Will  a  nauseous  dose  help  mental  pain  ?  I 
must  be  alone." 

"  Father,"  said  Annie,  in  a  firm  and  quiet  voice, 
"  I  will  be  both  nurse  and  physician  to  Mr.  Gregory 
this  morning.  If  I  fail,  you  may  send  for  a  doctor." 

Unperceived  she  had  entered,  and  from  Gregory's 
manner  and  words  understood  his  condition. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory  hastily,  "  I  give 
you  warning.  I  am  not  even  the  poor  weak  self  you 
have  known  before,  and  I  beg  you  leave  me  till  this 


240 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


nervous  headache  passes  off,  if  it  ever  does.  I  can't 
control  myself  at  such  times,  and  this  is  the  worst 
attack  I  ever  had.  I  am  low  enough  in  your  esteem. 
Do  not  add  to  my  pain  by  being  present  now  at  the 
time  of  my  greatest  weakness." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  replied,  "  you  may  speak 
and  act  your  worst,  but  you  shall  not  escape  me  this 
morning.  It's  woman's  place  to  remove  pain,  not  fly 
from  it.  So  you  must  just  submit  with  the  best 
grace  you  can.  If  after  I  have  done  all  in  my  power 
you  prefer  the  doctor  and  another  nurse,  I  will  give 
way,  but  now  you  have  no  choice." 

Gregory  fell  back  on  the  sofa  with  a  groan  and 
muttered  oath.  At  a  sign  from  his  daughter,  Mr. 
Walton  reluctantly  and  doubtfully  left  the  room. 

Annie  quietly  stepped  to  the  hearth  and  stirred 
the  fire  to  a  cheerful  blaze.  She  then  went  to  the 
parlor  and  brought  the  afghan,  and  without  so  much 
as  saying  "  by  your  leave,"  spread  it  over  his  chilled 
form. 

Gregory  felt  himself  helpless,  but  there  was  some 
thing  soothing  in  this  assertion  of  her  strong  will, 
and  like  a  sick  child  he  was  better  the  moment  he 
ceased  to  chafe  and  struggle. 

She  left  the  room  a  few  moments,  and  even  be 
tween  the  surges  of  pain  he  was  curious  as  to  what 
she  would  do  next.  He  soon  learned  with  a  thrill 
of  hope  that  he  was  to  experience  the  magnetism  of 
her  touch,  and  to  know  the  power  of  the  hand  that 
seemed  alive  in  his  grasp  the  day  of  their  chestnut- 
ing  expedition.  Annie  returned  with  a  quaint  little 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y. 


241 


bottle  of  German  cologne,  and  taking  a  seat  quietly 
by  his  side,  commenced  bathing  his  aching  tem 
ples. 

"  You  treat  me  like  a  child/'  he  said  petulantly. 

"  I  hope  for  a  while  you  will  be  content  to  act 
like  one,"  she  replied. 

"  I  may,  like  a  very  bad  one." 

"  No  matter,"  she  said,  with^a  laugh  that  was  the 
very  antidote  of  morbidness  ;  "  I  am  accustomed  to 
manage  children." 

But  in  very  brief  time  he  had  no  disposition  to 
shrink  from  her  touch  or  presence.  Her  hand  upon 
his  brow  seemed  to  communicate  her  own  strong, 
restful  life,  his  temples  throbbed  less  and  less  vio 
lently.  Silent  and  wondering  he  lay  very  still,  con 
scious  that  by  some  subtle  power  she  was  exorcising 
the  demons  of  pain.  His  hurried  breathing  became 
regular,  his  hands  unclenched  ;  his  form,  that  had 
been  tense  and  rigid,  relaxed  into  a  position  of  com 
fort.  He  felt  he  was  under  some,  beneficent  spell, 
and  for  an  hour  scarcely  moved  lest  he  should  break 
it  and  his  torment  return.  Annie  was  equally  silent, 
but  with  a  smile  saw  the  effects  of  her  ministry.  At 
last  she  leaned  over,  and  looking  into  his  face,  said 
with  an  arch  smile : 

"  Shall  I  send  for  Doctor  Bludgeon  and  Sairy 
Gamp  to  take  my  place?" 

He  was  very  weak   and   unstrung,  and  while  a 
tremulous  smile  hovered  about  his  mouth,  his  eyes 
so  moistened  that  he  turned  toward  the  wall.     After 
a  moment  he  said  : 
ii 


242  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  am  not  worthy  of  your  kind 
ness." 

"  Nor  are  you  unworthy.  But  kindness  is  not  a 
matter  of  business.  So  much  for  so  much." 

"  Why  do  you  waste  your  time  on  me  ?  " 

"  Come,  that  is  a  childish  question.  What  a 
monster  I  should  be  if  I  heedlessly  left  you  to  suffer. 

The  farmers'  wives  around  would  mob  me." 

• 

"  I  am  very  grateful  for  the  relief  you  are  giving 
me,  even  though  mere  humanity  is  the  motive." 

"  Mere  humanity  is  not  my  motive.  You  are 
our  guest,  the  son  of  my  father's  dearest  friend, 
and  for  your  own  sake  I  am  deeply  interested  in 
you." 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  know  in  the  depths  of  your 
soul  you  are  disgusted  with  me.  You  seek  to  apply 
those  words  to  my  spirit,  as  you  do  cologne  to  my 
head." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  It  is  not  the  cologne  only 
that  relieves  your  headache." 

"  I  know  that  well.  It  is  your  touch  which 
seems  magical." 

"  Well  then,  you  should  know  from  my  touch 
that  I  am  not  sitting  here  telling  fibs.  If  I  should 
bathe  your  head  with  a  wooden  hand,  wouldn't  you 
know  it  ?  " 

"  What  an  odd  simile  !  I  cannot  understand  you." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should,  but  do  not 
wrong  me  by  doubting  me  again." 

'  I  have  done  nothing  but  wrong  you,  Miss 
Walton." 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY.  .         243 

"  I'm  not  conscious  of  it,  so  you  needn't  worry, 
and  I  assure  you,  I  find  it  a  pleasure  to  do  you 
good." 

"  Miss  Walton,  you  are  the  essence  of  goodness." 

"  Oh  no;  no  ;  why  say  of  a  creature,  what  is  only 
true  of  God.  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  very  extravagant 
in  your  language." 

A  scowl  darkened  his  face,  and  he  said  moodily : 

"  God  seems  to  me  the  essence  of  cruelty." 

"  '  Seems,  seems  ! '  An  hour  since  I  seemed  a 
torment,  and  you  were  driving  me  away." 

"  Yes,  but  you  soon  proved  yourself  a  kind,  help 
ful,  pitiful  friend.  I  once  thought  my  cheek  would 
flame  with  anger  even  if  I  were  dying,  should  I  be 
regarded  as  an  object  of  pity.  But  you,  better  than 
any  one,  know  that  I  am  one." 

"  I,  better  than  any  one,  know  that  you  are  not, 
in  the  sense  you  mean." 

"  Come,  Miss  Walton,  you  cannot  be  sincere  now. 
Do  you  think  I  can  ever  forget  the  miserable  scene 
of  Monday  evening,  when  you  placed  yourself  beside 
the  martyrs,  and  I  sank  down  among  the  cowards  of 
any  age.  I  have  reached  the  bottom  of  the  only 
perdition  I  believe  in.  I  have  lost  my  self-respect." 

"  Which  I  trust  God  will  help  you  regain  by 
showing  you  the  only  sure  and  safe  ground  on  which 
self-respect  can  be  maintained.^  Much  that  is  called 
self-respect  is  nothing  but  pride.  But,  Mr.  Gregory  ^ 
injustice  to  one's  self  is  as  wrong  as  injustice  to  ano 
ther.  Answer  me  honestly  this  question.  Did  you 
act  that  evening  only  from  fear — because  you  have 


244  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

it  not  in  you  to  face  danger ;  or  did  you  promise 
secrecy  because  you  felt  the  man's  crime  was  none 
of  your  business,  and  supposed  I  would  take  the 
same  view  ?  " 

Gregory  started  up  and  looked  at  her  with  a  face 
all  aglow  with  honest,  grateful  feeling,  and  said  : 
"  God  knows  the  latter  is  the  truth." 
"  And  I  know  it  too.     I  knew  it  then." 
"'But  the  world  could  never  be  made  to  see  it  in 
that  light." 

"  Now  pride  speaks.  Self-respect  does  not  de 
pend  upon  the  opinion  of  the  world.  The  world 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  You  certainly 
do  not  expect  I  am  going  to  misrepresent  you  be 
fore  it." 

Walter  bent  a  look  upon  her,  such  as  she  had 
never  sustained  before.  It  was  the  look  of  a  man 
who  had  discovered  something  divine  and  precious 
beyond  words.  It  was  a  feeling  such  as  might  thrill 
one  who  was  struggling  in  darkness,  and  as  he  sup 
posed,  sinking  in  the  deep  sea,  but  whose  feet 
touched  something  which  seemed  to  sustain.  The 
thought  "  I  can  trust  her— she  is  true,"  came  to 
him  at  that  time  with  such  a  blessed  power  to 
inspire  hope  and  give  relief,  that  for  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak.  Then  he  began  : 

"  Miss  Walton,  I  cannot  find  words —  " 
"  Do    not    find   them,"    she    interrupted   laugh 
ingly.     "  See,  your  temples  are  beginning  to  throb 
again,  and  I  am  a  sorry  nurse,  a  true  disciple  of  Mrs. 
Gamp,  to  let  you  excite  yourself.     Lie  down,  sir,  at 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y.  24$ 

once,  and  let  your  thoughts  dwell  the  next  half-hour 
on  your  breakfast.  You  have  much  reason  for  regret 
that  the  dainty  little  tidbits  that  I  first  prepared 
are  spoiled  by  this  time.  I  doubt  whether  I  can  do 
as  well  again." 

"  I.  do  not  wish  any  breakfast.  Please  do  not 
leave  me  yet." 

".It  makes  no  difference  what  you  wish.  The 
idea  of  an  orthodox  physician  consulting  the  wishes 
of  his  patfent !  My  practical  skill  sees  you  need 
breakfast." 

"  Have  you  had  any  yourself?  he  asked,  again 
starting  up,  and  looking  searchingly  at  her. 

"  Well,  I  have  had  a  cup  of  coffee,"  she  replied, 
coloring  a  little. 

"  What  a  brute  I  am  ! "  he  groaned. 

"  In  that  charge  upon  yourself  you  strongly  assert 
the  possession  of  an  animal  nature,  and  therefore  of 
course  need  breakfast." 

"  May  I  be  choked  by  the  first  mouthful  if  I 
touch  anything  before  I  know  you  have  had  your 
own." 

"  What  an  awful  adjuration !  How  can  you 
swear  so  before  a  lady,  Mr.  Gregory  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  a  solemn  vow." 

"  Then  I  must  take  my  breakfast  with  you,  for 
with  your  disposition  to  doubt  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  '  know '  anything  about  it  otherwise." 

"  That  is  better  than  I  hoped.  I  will  eat  any 
thing  you  bring  on  those  conditions,  if  it  does  choke 
me — and  I  know  it  will." 


246  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  A  fine  compliment  to  my  cooking,"  she  retorted, 
and  laughingly  left  the  room. 

Walter  could  not  believe  himself  the  haggard 
wretch  that  Mr.  Walton  had  found  two  hours  since. 
Then  he  was  ready  to  welcome  death  as  a  deliverer. 
Insane  man  !  As  if  death  ever  delivered  any  but 
the  good  from  evil !  But  so  potent  had  been  the 
sweet  wine  of  Annie's  ministry  that  his  chilled  and 
benumbed  heart  was  beginning  to  glow  with  a  faint 
warmth  of  hope  and  comfort.  Morbidness  could  no 
more  exist  in  her  presence  than  shadows  on  the 
sunny  side  of  trees.  With  her  full  knowledge  of  the 
immediate  cause  of  his  suffering,  and  with  her  unu 
sual  tact,  she  had  applied  balm  to  body  and  spirit 
at  the  same  time.  The  sharp,  cutting  agony  in  his 
head  had  been  charmed  away.  The  paroxysm  had 
passed,  and  the  dull  ache  that  remained  seemed  no 
thing  in  comparison — merely  the  heavy  swell  of  the 
departed  storm. 

He  forgot  himself,  the  source  of  all  his  trouble,  in 
thinking  about  Miss  Walton.  .The  plain  girl,  as  he 
had  at  first  regarded  her,  with  a  weak,  untried  char 
acter  that  he  had  expected  to  topple  over  by  the 
breath  of  a  little  flattery,  now  seemed  divinely  beau 
tiful  and  strong.  She  reminded  him  of  the  graceful, 
symmetrical  elm,  which,  though  bending  to  the  tem 
pest,  is  rarely  broken  or  uprooted. 

He  hardly  hoped  that  she  would  give  him  credit 
for  the  real  state  of  his  mind  which  had  led  to  his 
ready  promise  of  secrecy.  To  the  counterfeiter's 
wretched  companion  he  had  seemed  the  weakest  and 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY.  247 

meanest  of  cowards,  and  if  the  story  were  generally 
known  he  would  appear  in  the  same  light  to  the 
world.  To  his  intensely  proud  nature  this  .would  be 
intolerable.  And  why  should  it  not  be  known  ?  If 
Miss  Walton  chose  to  regard  his  choice  as  one  of 
cowardice,  how  could  he  prove,  even  to  her,  that  it 
was  not  ? 

Moreover,  his  estimate  of  human  nature  was  much 
too  low  not  to  believe  that  even  Annie  would  use 
him  as  a  dark  background  for  her  heroism,  and  he 
well  knew  that  when  such  a  story  was  once  started, 
society's  strongest  tendency  is  to  exaggerate  man's 
pusillanimity  and  woman's  courage.  He  shuddered 
as  he  saw  himself  growing  blacker  and  meaner  in 
every  fire-side  and  street-corner  narration  of  the 
strange  tale,  till  at  last  his  infamy  passed  into  one 
of  the  traditions  of  the  place.  A  man  like  Gregory 
could  not  long  endure  such  a  prospect.  He  would 
die,  either  by  every  physical  power  speedily  giving 
out  under  mental  anguish,  or  by  his  own  hand  ;  or  if 
he  had  lived,  reason  would  have  dropped  its  sceptre 
and  become  the  sport  of  wild  thoughts  and  fancies. 

Little  wonder  then  that  Annie  appeared  an  angel 
of  light  when  she  stood  between  him  and  such  a  fu 
ture.  The  ugliest  hag  would  have  been  glorified  and 
loved  in  the  same  position.  But  when  she  did  this 
with  her  own  peculiar  grace  and  tact,  as  a  matter 
of  justice,  his  gratitude  and  admiration  knew  no 
bounds.  He  was  in  a  fair  way  to  become  an  idolater 
and  worship  the  country  girl  he  had  once  sneered  at, 
as  no  sculptured  Madonna  was  ever  revered  even  in 


248  OPENING  "A    CHESTNUT  BURR 

superstitious  Italy.  In  addition  to  his  personal  obli 
gation,  by  tests  certain  and  terrible  she  had  proved 
herself  true  and  strong  in  a  world  that  he  believed 
in  the  main  utterly  false  at  heart.  It  is  one  of  our 
most  natural  instincts  to  trust  and  lean  upon  some 
thing,  and  Annie  Walton  seemed  one  whose  friend 
ship  he  could  value  above  life. 

He  did  not  even  then  realize,  in  his  glad  sense  of 
relief,  that  in  escaping  the  dilemma  of  cowardice,  he 
fell  upon  the  other,  namely,  lack  of  principle — that 
the  best  explanation  of  his  conduct  admitted  that  he 
was  indifferent  to  right  and  wrong,  and  even  to  the 
most  serious  crime  against  society,  so  long  as  he  was 
not  personally  and  immediately  injured.  He  had 
acted  on  the  selfish  creed  that  a  man  is  a  fool  who 
puts  himself  to  serious  trouble  to  serve  the  public. 
The  fact  that  he  did  not  even  dream  that  Annie 
would  make  the  noble  stand  she  did,  prove_s  how  far 
selfishness  can  take  a  man  out  of  his  true  course 
when  he  throws  overboard  compass  and  chart  and 
lets  himself  drift. 

But  in  the  world's  code  (which  was  his)  cowardice 
was  the  one  deadly  sin.  His  lack  of  anything  like 
Christian  principle  was  a  familiar  fact  to  him,  and  did 
not  hurt  him  among  those  with  whom  he  associated. 

Even  Annie,  woman-like,  could  forgive  all  his 
faults  quicker  than  a  display  of  that  weakness  which 
is  most  despised  in  a  man.  But  she  too  was  suffi 
ciently  familiar  with  the  world  not  to  be  repelled  or 
shocked  by  a  life  which,  compared  with  all  true,  noble 
standards,  was  sadly  lacking.  And  yet  she  was  the 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY: 


249 


very  last  one  to  be  dazzled  by  a  fast,  brilliant  man 
of  the  world.  She  had  been  too  well  educated  for 
that,  and  early  had  been  taught  to  distinguish  be 
tween  solid  worth  and  mere  tinsel.  Her  native 
powers  of  observation  were  strong,  and  her  father, 
and  mother  also  before  she  died,  had  given  her 
opportunities  for  exercising  them.  Instead  of  mere 
assertions  as  to  what  was  right  and  wrong  ancl  gen 
eral  lecturing  on  the  subject,  they  had  aimed  to 
show  her  right  and  wrong  embodied  in  human  lives. 
They  made  her  feel  that  God  wanted  her  to  do  right 
for  the  same  reason  that  they  did,  because  he  loved 
her.  First  in  Bible  narrative  told  in  bed-time  stories, 
then  in  history  and  biography,  and  finally  in  the 
experience  of  those  around  them,  she  had  been 
shown  the  happy  contrast  of  good,  God-pleasing  life, 
with  that  which  is  selfish  and  wicked.  So  thorough 
and  practical  had  been  the  teaching  in  this  respect, 
and  so  impressed  was  she  with  the  lesson,  that  she 
would  as  soon  have  planted  in  her  flower-bed  the 
seeds  of  tender  annuals  on  the  eve  of  autumn  frosts 
and  expected  bloom  in  chill  December  as  to  enter 
upon  a  course  that  God  frowns  upon,  and  look  tor 
happiness.  Her  father  often  said  : 
^  "  Opposing  God's  will  is  like  a  ship  beating  against 
wind  and  tide  to  certain  wreck." 

An  evil  life  appeared  therefore  to  her  a  moral 
madness,  under  the  malign  influence  of  which  people 
were  like  the  mentally  deranged  who  with  strange 
perversity  hate  their  best  friends  and  cunningly  watch 
for  chances  of  self-destruction.  While  on  one  hand 
n* 


250  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

she  shrank  from  them  with  something  of  the  repul 
sion  which  many  feel  toward  those  who  are  unsound 
in  mind,  on  the  other  she  cherished  the  deepest  pity 
for  them.  Knowing  how  full  and  complete  a  remedy 
ever  exists  in  Him  whose  word  and- touch  removed 
humanity  s  most  desperate  ills,  it  was  her  constant 
wish  and  effort  to  lead  as  many  as  possible  to  this 
Divine  Friend. )(\i  she  had  been  like  many  sincere 
but  selfish  religionists,  she  would  have  said  of  Grego 
ry,  "  He  is  not  congenial.  We  have  nothing  in  com 
mon,"  and,  wrapped  in  her  own  spiritual  pleasures 
and  pursuits,  would  have  shunned,  ignored,  and  for 
gotten  him.  But  she  chiefly  saw  his  pressing  need 
of  help,  and  said  to  herself: 

)Sl  If   I    would    be   like  my  Master,  I  must  help 
him." 

Gregory  at  first  had  looked  upon  himself  as  im 
measurably  superior  to  the  plain,  country  Miss  Wal 
ton.  He  little  imagined  that  she  at  the  same  time 
had  a  profound  pity  for  him,  and  that  this  fact 
would  become  his  best  chance  for  life.  She  had  not 
forgotten  the  merciful  conspiracy  entered  into  the 
second  evening  after  his  arrival,  but  was  earnestly 
seeking  to  carry  it  out.  In  order  to  do  this,  she  was 
anxious  to  gain  his  good-will  and  confidence,  and 
now  saw  with  gratitude  that  their  adventure  on  the 
mountain,  that  had  threatened  to  end  in  death,  might 
be  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  happy  life.  She 
exulted  over  the  hold  she  gained  upon  him,  not  as 
the  selfish  gloat  over  one  within  their  power,  and 
whom  they  can  use  for  personal  ends — not  as  the 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY.  2$l 

coquette  smiles  as  she  sees  another  human  victim 
upon  the  altar  of  her  vanity,  but  as  the  angels  of 
heaven  rejoice  when  there  is  even  a  chance  of  one 
sinner's  repentance. 

And  yet  Annie  had  no  intention  of  "  talking 
religion"  to  him  in  any  formal  way,  save  as  the 
subject  came  up  naturally ;  but  hoped  to  live  it,  and 
suggest  it  to  him  in  such  an  attractive  form  that  he 
would  desire  it  for  his  own  sake. 

But  her  chief  hope  was  in  the  fact  that  she  prayed 
for  him,  and  she  no  more  expected  to  be  unheard 
and  unanswered  than  that  her  kind  old  father  would 
listen  to  some  earnest  request  with  a  stony  face. 

But  Annie  was  not  one  to  go  solemnly  to  work 
to  compass  an  event  that  would  cause  joy  in  heaven. 
She  would  ask  one  to  be  a  Christian  as  she  would 
invite  a  captive  to  leave  his  dungeon,  or  tell  the  sick 
how  to  be  well.  She  saw  that  morbid  gloom  had 
become  almost  a  disease  with  Gregory,  and  purposed 
to  cure  him  with  sunshine. 

And  sunshine  embodied  she  seemed  to  him  as  she 
appeared,  her  face  glowing  with  exercise  and  close 
acquaintance  with  the  kitchen-range.  In  each  hand 
she  carried  a  dish,  while  Hannah  followed  with  a  tray 
on  which  smoked  the  most  appetizing  of  break 
fasts. 

"  Your  rash  vow,"  she  said,  "  has  caused  you 
long  waiting.  I'm  none  of  your  ethereal  heroines, 
but  have  a  craving  for  solids  served  in  quantity  and 
variety.  And  while  I  could  have  soon  got  your 
breakfast,  it  was  no  bagatelle  to  get  mine." 


252  OPENING  A  'CHESTNUT  BURR. 

How  fresh  and  bright  she  looked  saying  all  this ; 
and  he  ejaculated : 

"  Deliver  me  from  the  ghastly  creatures  you  call 
'  ethereal  heroines.' " 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  she  retorted,  "  if  you  can't  deliver 
yourself  from  them  you  shall  have  no  help  from  me. 
But  let  us  at  once  enter  upon  the  solemnities,  and  as 
you  have  a  spark  of  gallantry,  see  to  it  that  you  pay 
my  cookery  proper  compliment." 

"  Your  '  cookery,'  forsooth,"  said  he,  with  some 
thing  of  her  own  light  tone.  "  That  I  should  find 
Miss  Walton  stealing  Zibbie's  laurels ! " 

"  Chuckle  when  you  find  her  doing  it.  Hannah, 
who  prepared*this  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Yourself,  Miss,"  answered  the  woman  with  an 
admiring  grin. 

"  That  will  do,  Hannah ;  we  will  wait  upon  our 
selves.  Shame  on  you,  sir.  You  are  no  connoisseur, 
since  you  cannot  tell  a  lady's  delicate  work  from 
a  kitchen-maid's.  Moreover,  you  have  shown  that 
wretched  doubting  disposition  again." 

Now  that  they  were  alone,  Gregory  said  earn 
estly,  "  I  shall  never  doubt  you  again." 

"  I  hope  you  never  will  doubt  that  I  wish  to  do 
you  good,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  replied,  passing  him  a 
cup  of  tea. 

""You  have  done  me  more  good  in  a  few  brief 
hours  than  I  ever  hoped  to  receive.  Miss  Walton, 
how  can  I  repay  you?  " 

11  By  being  a  better  friend  to  yourself.  Com 
mence  by  eating  this." 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLA  Y. 


253 


He  did  not  find  it  very  difficult  to  comply.  After 
a  little  time  he  said  : 

^  "  But  my  conscience  condemns  me  for  caring  too 
much  for  myself." 

"And  no  doubt  your  conscience  is  right.  The 
idea  of  being  a  friend  to  yourself  and  going  against 
your  conscience ! " 

"  Then  I  have  ever  been  my  own  worst  enemy/ 

"  I  can  believe  that,  and  so  you'll  continue  if  you 
don't  take  another  piece  of  toast." 

"And  yet  there  has  always  seemed  a  fatal  neces 
sity  for  me  to  do  wrong  and  go  wrong.  Miss  Wal 
ton,  you  are  made  of  different  clay  from  me  and  most 
people  that  I  know.  It  is  your  nature  to  be  good 
and  noble.'* 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Annie  with  a  positive  frown. 
"  Different  clay  indeed  !  I  imagine  you  do  wrong 
for  the  same  reason  that  I  do,  because  you  wish  ;  and 
you  fail  in  doing  right  because  you  have  nothing  but 
your  weak  human  will  to  keep  you  up." 

"  And  what  keeps  you  up,  pray  ?  " 

"  Can  you  even  suppose  that  I  or  any  one  can  be 
a  Christian  without  Christ  ?  " 

He  gave  one  of  his  incredulous  shrugs. 

"  Now  what  may  that  mean  ?  "  she  asked; 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  say  that  I  think  yours  is  a 
pretty  and  harmless  superstition.  This  world  is  one 
of  inexorable  law  and  necessity  down  to  the  mi 
nutest  thing.  A  weed  is  always  a  weed.  The  same 
is  true  of  a  rose.  It's  my  misfortune  to  be  a  weed. 
It's  your  good  fortune  to  be  a  rose." 


254 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


Annie  looked  as  if  she  might  become  a  briery 
one  at  that  moment,  for  this  direct  style  of  compli 
ment,  though  honest,  was  not  agreeable.  Conscious 
of  many  struggles  with  evil,  it  was  even  painful,  for 
it  did  her  injustice  in  two  aspects  of  the  case.  So 
she  said  dryly  : 

"  What  an  automaton  you  make  me  out  to  be." 

"  How  so?'" 

"  If  I  merely  do  right  as  the  rose  grows,  I  de 
serve  no  credit.  I'm  but  little  better  than  a 

machine." 

"  Not  at  all.     I  compared  you  to  something  that 

has  a  beautiful  life  of  its  own.  But  I  would  will 
ingly  be  a  machine,  and  a  very  angular,  uncouth  one 
too,  if  some  outside  power  would  only  work  me  right 
and  to  some  purpose." 

"  Such  talk  seems  to  me  idle,  Mr.  Gregory.  I 
know  that  I  have  to  try  very  hard  to  do  right,  and 
often  fail.  I  do  not  believe  that  our  very  existence 
commences  in  a  lie,  as  it  were,  for  from  earliest  years 
conscience  tells  us  that  we  needn't  do  wrong  and 
ought  not  to.  Honestly  now,  isn't  this  true  of  your 
conscience  ?  " 

"  But  my  reason  concludes  otherwise,  and  reason 
is  above  conscience — above  everything,  and  one 
must  abide  by  its  decisions." 

For  a  moment  Annie  did  not  know  how  to  an 
swer.  She  was  not  versed  in  theology  and  meta 
physics,  but  she  knew  he  was  wrong.  Therefore 
she  covered  her  confusion  by  quietly  pouring  him 
out  another  cup  of  tea,  and  then  said : 


OF  DIFFERENT  CLAY.  25$ 

"  Even  my  slight  knowledge  of  the  past  has 
taught  me  how  many  absurd  and  monstrous  things 
can  be  done  and  said  in  the  name  of  reason.  Reli 
gion  is  a  matter  of  revelation  and  experience.  But 
it  is  not  contrary  to  reason,  certainly  not  to  mine. 
If  your  reason  should  conclude  that  this  tea  is  not 
hot,  what  difference  would  that  make  to  me  ?  My 
religion  is  a  matter  of  fact — of  vivid  consciousness." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  It's  your  life — your  nature, 
just  as  in  my  nature  there  is  nothing  akin  to  it. 
That  is  why  I  say  you  are  made  of  different  clay 
from  myself;  and  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  he  added, 
with  an  air  of  pleasantry  which  she  saw  veiled  gen 
uine  earnestness,  "  for  I  wish  you  the  best  of  every 
thing  for  even  and  ever." 

Annie  felt  that  she  could  not  argue  him  out  of 
his  folly  ;  and  while  she  was  annoyed,  she  could  not 
be  angry  with  him  for  expressions  that  were  not 
meant  as  flattery,  but  were  rather  the  strong  lan 
guage  of  his  gratitude.  "Time  will  cure  him  of  his 
delusions,"  she  thought,  and  said  lightly : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  from  certain  knowledge  of  myself 
which  you  cannot  have,  I  disclaim  all  your  absurd 
ideas  in  regard  to  the  newfangled  clay  of  my  com 
position.  I  know  ve*y  well  that  I  am  ordinary  flesh 
and  blood,  a  fact  that  you  will  soon  find  out  for 
yourself.  As  your  physician,  I  pronounce  that  such 
wild  fancies  and  extravagant  -language  prove  that 
you  are  out  of  your  head,  and  that  you  need  quieting 
sleep.  I  am  going  to  read  you  the  dullest  book  in  the 
library  as  a  sedative." 


256  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BIJRR. 

"  No,  please,  sing  rather." 

"  What !  after  such  a  breakfast !  Do  you  sup 
pose"  that  I  would  ruin  the  reputation  of  my  voice  in 
one  fell  moment  ?  Now  what  kind  of  clay  led  to 
this  remark?  Do  as  your  doctor  says.  Recline  on 
the  lounge.  Close  your  eyes.  Here  is  a  treatise  on 
the  Nebular  Hypothesis  that  looks  unintelligible 
enough  for  our  purpose.'* 

"  Nebular  Hypothesis  !  Another  heavenly  ex 
perience  such  as  you  are  ever  giving  me."  - 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,  punning  is  a  very  bad 
symptom.  You  must  go  to  sleep  at  once."  And 
soon  her  mellow  voice  was  finding  its  way  into  a 
labyrinth  of  hard  scientific  terms,  as  a  mountain 
brook  might  murmur  among  the  stqries.  After  a 
little  time  she  asked  of  Gregory,  whose  eyes  remained 
wide  open  : 

"  How  does  it  sound  ?  " 

"  Like  the  multiplication  table  set  to  music." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  I'm  trying  to  solve  a  little  nebular  hypothesis 
of  my  own.  ,  I  was  computing  how  many  million 
belles  such  as  I  know,  and  how  many  ages,  would  be 
required  to  condense  them  into  a  woman  like  your 
self." 

Annie  shut  the  book  with  a  slam,  and  with  an 
abrupt,  half-vexed  "  good-by,"  left  the  room.  For  a 
brief  time  Gregory  lay  repenting  of  his  disastrous 
levity,  and  then  slept. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Miss  WALTON  MADE  OF  ORDINARY  CLAY. 

WHEN  Gregory  awoke,  the  sun  had  sunk  be- 
behind  the  mountains  that  he  could  not  even 
look  toward  now  without  a  shudder,  and  the  land 
scape,  as  seen  from  the  window,  was  growing  obscure 
in  the  early  dusk  of  an  autumn  evening.  But  had 
the  window  opened  on  a  vista  in  paradise  he  would 
not  have  looked  without,  for  the  one  object  of  all 
the  world  most  attractive  to  him  was  present.  An 
nie  sat  near  the  hearth  with  some  light  crochet- 
work  in  her  hands.  She  had  evidently  been  out  for 
a  walk,  for  she  was  drying  her  feet  on  the  fender. 
How  trim  and  cunning  they  looked,  peeping  from 
under  the  white  edge  of  her  skirt,  and  what  a  pretty 
picture  she  made  sitting  there  in  the  fire-light.  The 
outline  of  her  figure  surely  did  not  suggest  the 
"  ethereal  heroine,"  but  rather  the  presiding  genius 
in  a  happy  home,  in  which  the  element  of  comfort 
abounded.  She  looked  as  if  she  would  be  a  sweet- 
tempered,  helpful  companion,  in  the  every-day  cares 
and  duties  of  a  busy  life : 

A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food. 

WORDSWORTH. 


258  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  How  dark  and  lustrous  her  eyes  are  in  the  fire 
light,"  Gregory  thought.  "  It  seems  as  if  another 
and  more  genial  fire  were  burning  in  them.  What  can 
she  be  thinking  of,  that  such  happy,  dreamy  smiles 
are  flitting  across  her  face  ?  If  I  had  such  a  hearth 
as  that,  and  such  a  good  angel  beside  it  to  receive 
me  after  the  day's  work  was  over,  I  believe  I  could 
become  at  least  a  man,  if  not  a  Christian,"  and  he 
sighed  so  deeply  that  Annie  looked  hastily  up,  and 
encountered  his  wistful  gaze. 

"  What  a  profound  remark  you  just  made,"  she 
said.     "  What  could  have  led  to  it?  " 
.    "You." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  am  an  object  to  sigh  over. 
I'm  perfectly  well,  I  thank  you,  and  have  had  my 
dinner." 

"  You  have  no  idea  what  a  pretty  picture  you 
made." 

"  Yes,  in  this  poor  light,  and  your  disordered 
imagination.  But  did  you  sigh  on  that  account  ?  " 

"  No,  but  because  to  me  it  is  only  a  picture — one 
that  shall  have  the  chief  place  in  the  gallery  of  my 
memory.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  be  in  my  cheerless 
bachelor  apartments,  with  nothing  but  a  dusty  regis 
ter  in  the  place  of  this  home-like  hearth." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  growing  senti 
mental.  I  will  go  and  see  if  supper  is  ready." 

"  Please  stay,  and  I  will  talk  of  the  multiplication 
table." 

"  No,  that  led  to  the  *  Nebular  Hypothesis/  You 
had  better  prepare  for  supper  ;  "  and  she  vanished. 


OF  ORDINARY  CLAY. 

'  It's  my  fate,"  he  said  rising,  "  to  drive  away 
every  good  and  pleasant  thing." 

He  went  to  the  fire  and  stood  where  she  had  sat, 
and  again  thought  was  busy. 

"  She  seems  so  real  and  substantial,  and  yet  so 
intangible.  Her  defensive  armor  is  perfect,  and  I 
cannot  get  near  or  touch  her  unless  she  permits  it. 
The  sincerest  compliment  glances  off.  Out  of  her 
kindness  she  helps  me  and  does  me  good !  She 
bewitches  and  sways  me  by  her  spells,  but  I  might  as 
well  seek  to  imprison  a  spirit  of  the  air  as  to  gain 
any  hold  upon  her.  I  wonder  who  or  what 'she  was 
thinking  of,  that  such  dreamy,  tender  smiles  should 
flit  across  her  face%?  " 

How  his  face  would  have  darkened  with  wrath 
and  hate,  if  he  had  known  that  his  detestation, 
Hunting,  had  inspired  them. 

The  tea-bell  reminded  him  how  time  was  passing, 
and  he  went  to  his  room  with  an  elastic  step  that 
one  would  suppose  impossible  after  seeing -him  in 
the  morning.J^Sut,  as  is  usual  with  nervous  organi 
zations,  he  sank  or  rallied  rapidly  in  accordance  with 
circumstances.  When  he  appeared  at  the  table,  Mr. 
Walton  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes. 

"  It  is  again  the  result  of  Miss  Walton's  witch 
craft,"  explained  Gregory.  "The  moment  I  felt 
her  hand  upon  my  brow,  there  came  a  sense  of  relief. 
In  Italy,  they  would  make  a  saint  of  her,  and  bring 
out  the  sick  for  her  to  touch." 

"  And  so  soon  lose  their  saint  by  some  contagious 
disease,"  said  Annie  laughing. 


26o  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR, 

"  I  fear,  sir.  I  was  very  rude  to  you  this  morning, 
but  in  truth  I  was  beside  myself  with  pain." 

"  Annie  has  a  wonderful  power  of  magnetism — I 
don't  know  ^what  else  to  call  it,"  said  Miss  Eulie. 
"  She  can  drive  away  one  of  my  headaches  quicker 
than  all  other  remedies  combined." 

"  You  are  making  out,"  said  Annie,  "  that  my 
proper  calling  is  that  of  a  nurse.  If  you  don't 
change  the  subject,  I'll  leave  you  all  to  take  care  of 
yourselves,  and  go  down  to  Bellevue." 

"  If  you  do,"  laughed  Gregory,  "  I'll  break  every 
bone  in  my  body,  and  be  carried  into  your  ward  as  a 
homeless  stranger." 

The  supper  hour  passed  away  in  light  and  cheer 
ful  conversation.  As  if  by  common  consent,  no 
allusion  was  made  to  the  scenes  on  the  mountain,  in 
the  presence  of  the  children,  and  they  evidently  had 
had  their  curiosity  satisfied  on  the  subject. 

Annie  seemed  tired  and  languid  after  supper, 
and  Miss  Eulie  volunteered  to  see  the  children  safely 
to  their  rest.  Her  father  insisted  on  her  taking  his 
easy-chair,  and  Walter  placed  a  footstool  at  her  feet, 
and  together  they  "  made  a  baby  of  her  "  she  said. 
The  old  gentleman  then  took  his  seat,  and  seemed 
to  find  unbounded  content  in  gazing  on  his  beloved 
daughter.  Their  guest  appeared  restless  and  com 
menced  pacing  the  room.  Suddenly  he  asked  Mr. 
Walton  : 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  the  fugitives  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  beyond  the  fact  that  they  bought 
tickets  for  New  York  and  took  the  train.  I  have 


OF  ORDINARY  CLA  Y.  26l 

telegraphed  to  the  City  Police  Department,  and  for 
warded  the  description  of  their  persons  which  Annie 
gave  me.  Their  dwelling  has  been  examined  by  a 
competent  person,  but  evidently  he  is  an  old  and 
experienced  criminal  and  knows  how  to  cover  up  his 
tracks.  I  think  it  extremely  providential  that  they 
did  nothing  worse  than  send  you  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mountain  in  order  to  clear  a  way  for 
escape.  Such  desperate  people  often  believe  only  in 
the  silence  of  death.  They  might  have  caused  that 
dog  to  have  torn  you  to  pieces  and  they  have  ap 
peared  blameless.  If  caught,  only  your  testimony 
could  convict  them,  though  I  suspect  Mrs.  Tomp- 
kins  and  her  son.  Young  Tompkins  brought  them 
with  their  luggage  to  the  depot.  He  says  the  man 
called  *  Vight '  met  him  returning  from  the  delivery 
of  a  load  of  wood,  and  engaged  his  services.  As  he 
often  does  teaming  for  people  in  those  back  .districts, 
his  story  is  plausible ;  and  he  swears  he  knew  no 
thing  against  the  man.  But  he  is  a  bad,  drinking  fel 
low,  and  just  the  one  to  become  an  accomplice  in 
any  rascality.  I  fear  they  will  all  escape  us,  and  yet 
I  am  profoundly  grateful  that  matters  are  no  worse." 

While  Mr.  Walton  was  talking,  Gregory  was 
looking  intently  at  Annie.  She  was  conscious  of  his 
scrutiny  and  her  color  rose  under  it,  but  she  con 
tinued  to  gaze  steadily  at  the  fire. 

•  "  And    I    am  going  to  increase  that  gratitude  a 
hundred-fold,  sir,"  he  said  earnestly. 

Annie  looked  up  at  him  with  a  startled,  depreca 
tory  air.  "  No,  Miss  Walton,"  he  said,  answering  her 


262  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

look,  "  I  will  not  be  silent.  While  it  is  due  to 
your  generosity  that  the  world  does  not  hear  of  your 
heroism  as  the  story  would  naturally  be  told,  it  \s 
your  fathers  right  that  he  should  hear  it,  and  know 
the  priceless  jewel  that  he  has  in  his  daughter.  I 
know  that  appearances  will  be  against  me.  If  you 
can  take  her  view  of  the  matter,  sir,  I  shall  be  glad, 
otherwise  I  cannot  help  it  ;  "  and  he  related  the 
events  as  they  actually  occurred,  softening  and  pal 
liating  his  course  in  not  the  slightest  degree. 

Mr.  Walton  turned  ashen  pale  as  he  thus  for 
the  first  time  learned  the  desperate  /lature  of  his 
daughter's  peril.  Then  rising  with  a  sudden  im 
pulse  of  pride  and  affection  he  clasped  her  in  his 
arms. 

Gregory  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  when  Mr. 
Walton's  voice  detained  him. 

"  Do  not  go,  sir.  You  will  pardon  a  father's 
weakness." 

Gregory  felt  that  he  would  like  the  privilege  of 
showing  his  weakness  in  the  same  way. 

"  Father,  I  give  you  my  word  and  honor,"  cried 
Annie  eagerly,  "that  Mr.  Gregory  did  not  act  the 
part  of  a  coward.  He  scarcely  does  himself  justice 
in  his  story.  He  did  not  realize  the  principle  in 
volved,  and  saw  in  the  promise  he  gave  the  readiest 
way  out  of  an  awkward  and  dangerous  predicament. 
He  did  not  think  the  man's  crime  was  any  of  our 
business —  " 

"  There  is  no  need  of  pleading  Mr.  Gregory's 
cause  so  earnestly,  my  dear,"  interrupted  her  father. 


OF  ORDTNAR  Y  CLA  Y.  263 

"  I  think  I  understand  his  course  fully,  and  share 
your  view  of  it.  I  am  too  well  accustomed  to  the 
taking  of  evidence  not  to  detect  the  ring  of  truth." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  sir,  what  a  relief  it  is  to  me 
that  you  and  Miss  Walton  can  judge  thus  correctly 
of  my  action.  This  morning  and  yesterday  I  be 
lieved  that  you  and  all  the  world  would  regard  me 
as  the  meanest  of  cowards,  and  the  bitterness  of 
death  was  in  the  thought." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  kindly  but  gravely; 
"  your  course  did  not  result  from  cowardice  ;  but  per 
mit  an  old  man  and  your  father's  friend  to  say  that 
it  did  result  from  the  lack  of  high  moral  principle. 
Its  want  in  this  case  might  have  been  fatal,  for  the 
world  would  scarcely  do  you  justice,  as  you  feared. 
Let  it  be  a  lesson  to  you,  my  dear  young  friend, 
that  only  the  course  which  is  strictly  right  is  safe, 
even  as  far  as  this  world  is  concerned." 

Gregory's  face  flushed  deeply,  but  he  bowed  his 
head  in  his  humility  to  the  rebuke. 

"  At  the  same  time,"  continued  Mr.  Walton,  "  it 
was  manly  in  you  to  frankly  state  the  case  to  me  as 
you  have,  for  you  knew  that  you  might  shield  your 
self  behind  Annie's  silence." 

"  It  was  simply  your  right  to  know  it,"  said  Wal 
ter  in  a  low  tone. 

After  a  few  moments  of  musing  silence,  Annie 
said  earnestly  "  I  do  so  pity  that  poor  wo'man." 

"  I  imagine  she  is  little  better  than  her  com 
panion,"  said  Mr.  Walton. 

"  Indeed  she  is,  father,"  said  Annie  eagerly.     "  I 


264  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

cannot  tell  you  how  I  feel  for  her,  and  I  know  from 
her  manner  and  words  that  her  guilty  life  is  a  crush 
ing  burden.  It  must  be  a  terrible  thing  to  a  woman 
capable  of  good  (as  she  is),  and  wishing  to  live  a  true 
life,  to  be  irrevocably  bound  to  a  man  utterly  bad." 

"  She  is  not  so  bound  to  him,"  said  her  father ; 
"  can  she  not  leave  him  ?  " 

"  Ah,  there  comes  in  a  mystery,"  she  replied,  and 
the  subject  dropped.  Soon  after,  they  separated  for 
the  night. 

But  Gregory  had  much  food  for  painful  thought. 
After  the  experience  of  that  day  his  chief  desire  was 
to  stand  well  in  Miss  Walton's  esteem.  And  yet  how 
did  he  stand — how  could  he  stand,  being  what  he 
was  ?  He  was  not  conscious  of  love  for  her  as  yet. 
He  would  have  been  satisfied  if  she  had  said,  I  will 
be  your  friend  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  term.  He 
had  no  small  vanity,  and  understood  her  kindness. 
She  was  trying  to  do  him  good  as  she  would  anyone 
else.  She  was  sorry  for  him  as  for  the  wretched 
vvoman  who  also  found  an  evil  life  bitter,  but  she 
could  never  think  of  him  as  a  dear,  congenial,  trusted 
friend.  Even  her  father,  before  her,  had  rebuked 
his  lack  of  principle.  He  had  asserted  that  his 
nature  was  like  the  vile  weed,  and  he  had  proved  the 
same  every  day  of  his  visit.  If  she  should  come  to 
know  of  his  purpose  and  effort  to  tempt  her  into  the 
display  of  petty  weakness  and  lack  of  principle  her 
self,  would  she  not  regard  him  as  "  utterly  bad, ' 
and  shrink  with  loathing  even  from  the  bonds  of  . 
friendship  ? 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  26$ 

He  was  learning  the  lesson  that  wrong  sooner  or 
later  will  bring  its  own  punishment,  and  that  the 
little  experiment  that  he  entered  upon  as  a  relief 
from  ennui,  might  become  the  impassable  gulf  be 
tween  him  and  happiness  ;  for  he  knew  that  if  their 
relations  ever  verged  toward  mutual  confidence,  she 
would  ask  questions  that  would  render  lies  his  only 
escape.  He  could  not  sink  to  that  resort.  It  was 
late  before  he  found  refuge  in  sleep  from  painful 
thoughts. 

The  next  day  he  was  much  alone.  The  news  of 
their  adventure  having  got  abroad,  many  because 
of  their  sincere  regard  for  Annie,  and  not  a  few  out 
of  curiosity,  called  to  talk  the  matter  over.  A'fter 
meeting  one  or  two  of  these  parties,  and  witnessing 
the  modesty  and  grace  with  which  Annie  satisfied 
and  foiled  their  curiosity  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
glad  to  escape  further  company  in  a  long  and  soli 
tary  ramble.  The  day  was  mild,  so  that  he  could 
take  rests  in  sunny  nooks,  and  thus  he  spent  most 
of  the  day  by  himself.  His  conscience  was  awaken 
ing,  and  the  more  pure  and  beautiful  Annie's  char 
acter  grew  in  his  estimation,  the  more  dastardly  his 
attempt  upon  it  seemed.  Never  before  had  his  evil 
life  appeared  so  hideous  and  hateful. 

And  yet  his  remorse  had  nothing  in  it  of  true 
penitence.  It  was  rather  a  bitter,  impotent  revolt 
at  what  he  regarded  as  cruel  necessity.  Now  that 
he  had  been  forced  to  abandon  his  theory  that  peo 
ple  are  good  as  they  are  untempted,  he  adopted 
another  which,  if  it  left  him  in  a  miserable  predica- 
12 


266  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ment,  exonerated  him  from  blame.  He  had  stated 
it  to  Annie  wlien  he  said,  "You  are  made  of  differ 
ent  clay  from  other  people.  He  tried  hard  to 
believe  this,  and  partially  succeeded.  "  It  is  her 
nature  to  be  good,  and  mine  to  be  evil,"  he  often 
said  to  himself  that  long  and  lonely  day.  "  I  have 
had  a  fatal  gravitat  ion  ^  toward  evil  ever  since  I  can 
remember." 

But  this  was  not  true.  Indeed,  it  could  be  proved 
out  of  his  own  memory,  that  he  had  had  as  many 
good  and  noble  impulses  as  the  majority,  and  that 
circumstances  had  not  been  more  adverse  to  him 
than  to  numerous  others.  He  was  dimly  conscious 
of  these  facts,  though  he  tried  to  shut  his  eyes  to 
them. 

A  man  finally  gets  justice  at  the  bar  of  his  own 
conscience,  but  it  is  extorted  gradually,  reluctantly, 
with  much  befogging  of  the  case. 

Still  this  theory  would  not  help  him  much  with 
Annie  Walton,  for  he  knew  that  she  would  never 
entertain  it  a  moment. 

Thus  he  wandered  for  hours  amid  old  scenes  and 
boyish  haunts,  utterly  oblivious  of  them,  brooding 
more  and  more  darkly  and  despondingly  over  his 
miserable  lot.  He  tried  to  throw  off  the  burden  of 
depressing  thought  by  asking  in  sudden  fierceness  : 

"  Well,  what  is  Annie  Walton  to  me  ?  I  have 
only  known  her  a  few  days,  and  having  lived  thus 
long,  can  live  the  rest  of  my  days — probably  few— 
without  her." 

But  it  was  of  no  use.     His  heart  would  not  echo 


OF  ORDINARY  CLA  Y.  267 

the  words,  but  in  its  very  depths  a  voice  clear  and 
distinct  seemed  to  say  : 

"  I  want  to  be  with  her — to  be  near  her.  With 
her,  the  hours  are  winged ;  away,  they  are  leaden- 
footed.  She  awakens  hope ;  she  makes  it  appear 
possible  to  be  a  man." 

He  remembered  her  hand  upon  his  aching  brow, 
and  groaned  aloud  in  view  of  the  gulf  that  his  own 
life  had  placed  between  them. 

"Neither  can  they  pass  to  us,"  he  said,  uncon 
sciously  repeating  the  words  of  Scripture.  "With 
her  nature  what  I  know  it  to  be,  she  cannot  in  any 
way  ally  it  to  mine?" 

As  the  shadows  of  evening  deepened  he  saun 
tered  wearily  and  despondingly  to  the  house.  There 
were  still  guests  in  the  parlor,  and  he  passed  up  to 
his  room.  For  the  first  time  he  found  it  chilly  and 
fireless.  It  had  evidently  been  forgotten,  and  he 
felt  himself  forgotten  and  neglected ;  and  it  seemed 
that  he  could  drop  out  of  existence  unnoted  and  un- 
cared  for.  In  what  had  been  his  own  home,  the 
place  where  for  so  .many  years  he  had  experienced 
the  most  thoughtful  tenderness,  there  came  over  him 
a  sense  of  loneliness  and  desolation  such  as  he  had 
never  before  known  or  believed  possible.  He  felt 
himself  orphaned  of  heaven  and  earth,  of  God  and 
man. 

But  a  process  had  commenced  in  Annie's  mind 
that  would  have  surprised  him  much.  Unconsciously 
as  yet,  even  to  herself,  she  was  disproving  his  supe 
rior  "  clay  "  theory.  Though  carefully  trained,  and 


268  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

though  for  years  she  had  prayerfully  sought  to  do 
right,  still  she  was  a  true  daughter  of  Eve,  and  was 
often  betrayed  by  human  weakness.  She  had  not 
the  small,  habitual  vanity  of  some  pretty  women, 
who  take  admiration  and  flattery  as  their  due,  and 
miss  it  as  they  do  their  meals ;  still  there  was  pride 
and  vanity  in  her  composition,  and  the  causes  that 
would  naturally  develop  them  were  now  actively  at 
work.  She  considered  herself  plain  and  unattractive 
personally,  and  so  she  was  to  the  careless  glance 
of  a  stranger,  but  she  speedily  became  beautiful,  or 
what  was  better,  fascinating,  to  those  who  learned  to 
know  her  well.  All  are  apt  to  know  their  strong 
points  better  than  their  weak  ones,  and  Annie  had 
no  little  confidence  in  her  power  to  win  the  atten 
tion  and  then  the  respect  and  regard  of  those  whose 
eyes  turned  away  indifferently  after  the  first  percep 
tion  of  her  lack  of  beauty.  She  did  not  use  this 
power  as  the  coquette,  but  still  she  exulted  in  it,  and 
liked  to  employ  it  where  she  could  innocently.  She 
was  amused  with  Gregory's  sublime  indifference  at 
first,  and  thought  she  could  soon  change  that  condi 
tion  of  his  mind.  She  did  not  know  that  she  was 
successful  beyond  her  expectation  or  wishes. 

But  while  she  rejected  and  was  not  affected  by  the 
fulsome  flattery  with  which  he  at  first  plied  her,  de 
tecting  in  it  the  ring  of  insincerity,  she  had  noted,  with 
not  a  little  self-gratulation,  how  speedily  she  had 
made  him  conscious  of  her  existence  and  developed 
a  growing  interest.  She  knew  nothing  of  his  delibe 
rate  plot  against  her,  nor  its  motive.  Therefore  his 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y.  269 

manner  had  often  puzzled  her,  but  she  explained 
everything  by  saying : 

"  He  has  lived  too  long  in  Paris." 

Still  it  is  justice  to  her  to  say  that,  while  from 
the  natural-  love  of  power  existing  in  every  breast, 
she  had  her  own  little  complacencies,  and  often  times 
of  positive  pride  and  self-glorification,  yet  she  strug 
gled  and  prayed  against  such  tendencies,  and  in  the 
main  she  earnestly  sought  to  use  the  influence  she 
gained  over  others,  for  their  own  good. 

But  of  late  there  had  been  enough  to  turn  a 
stronger  head  than  hers.  Gregory's  homage  and 
admiration  was  now  sincere,  and  she  knew  it,  and  it 
was  no  trifling  thing  to  win  such  unbounded  esteem 
from  a  man  who  had  seen  so  much  of  the  world  and 
was  so  critical.  "  He  may  be  bad  himself,  but  he 
well  knows  what  is  good  and  noble,"  was  a  thought 
that  often  recurred  to  her.  Then,  in  a  moment  of 
sudden  and  terrible  peril  she  had  been  able  to  mas 
ter  her  strong  natural  timidity,  and  be  true  to  con 
science,  and  while  she  thanked  God  sincerely,  she 
also  was  more  and  more  inclined  to  take  a  great  deal 
of  credit  to  herself.  Gregory's  words  kept  repeating 
themselves :  "  You  are  made  of  different  clay  from 
others."  While  she  knew  that  this  was  not  true  as 
he  meant  it,  still  the  tempter  whispered,  You  are 
natufally,  and  you  have  trained  yourself  into  a  real 
and  great  superiority  over  many  others.  Her  father's 
intense  look  of  pride  and  pleasure  when  he  first 
learned  of  her  fortitude,  and  his  strong  words  of 
thankfulness,  she  took  as  incense  to  herself,  rather 


270  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

than  as  praise  to  God.  Then  came  a  flock  of  eager, 
curious,  sympathizing  people,  who  continued  to  feed 
her  aroused  pride  by  making  her  out  a  sort  of  hero 
ine.  Chief  of  all  she  was  complacent  in  the  con 
sciousness  of  so  generously  shielding  Gregory  when, 
if  she  told  the  whole  story,  she,  in  contrast  with  him, 
would  appear  to  far  greater  advantage. 

Altogether,  her  opinion  of  Annie  Walton  was 
rising  with  dangerous  rapidity ;  and  the  feeling  grew 
strong  within  her  that,  having  coped  successfully 
with  such  temptations,  she  had  little  to  fear  from  the 
future.  And  this  feeling  of  overweening  self-confi 
dence  and  self-satisfaction  was  beginning  to  tinge 
her  manner.  Not  that  she  would  ever  show  it  offen 
sively.  Annie  was  too  much  of  a  lady  for  that.  But 
at  the  supper  table  that  evening  she  gave  evident 
signs  of  elation  and  excitement.  She  talked  more 
than  usual,  and  was  often  very  positive  in  matters 
where  Gregory  knew  her  to  be  wrong ;  and  she  was 
also  a  little  dictatorial.  At  the  same  time  the  excite 
ment  made  her  conversation  more  brilliant  and 
pointed,  and  as  Gregory  skilfully  drew  her  out,  he 
was  suprised  at  the  force  and  freshness  of  her  mind. 

And  yet  there  was  something  that  jarred  unpleas 
antly — a  lack  of  the  sincere  simplicity  and  self-for- 
getfulness  which  were  her  usual  characteristics.  He 
had  never  known  her  to  use  the  pronoun  "  I  "  with 
such  distinctness  and  emphasis  before.  Still  all  this 
would  not  have  seemed  strange  to  him  in  another, 
but  it  did  in  contrast  with  herself. 

She  did  not  notice  the  cloud  upon  his  brow,  or 


OF  ORDINAR  Y  CLA  Y. 


271 


that  he  only  spoke  in  order  to  lead  her  to  talk.  She 
was  too  much  preoccupied  with  herself  for  her  cus 
tomary  quick  sympathy  for  the  moods  of  others. 
She  made  no  inquiries  as  to  how  he  had  spent  the 
day,  and  seemingly  had  forgotten  him  as  completely 
as  he  had  been  absorbed  in  her.  He  saw  with  a 
deeper  regret  than  he  could  understand  that,  except 
when  he  awakened  her  pity  by  suffering  or  enter 
tained  her  by  his  conversation  as  any  stranger  might, 
he  apparently  had  no  hold  upon  her  thoughts. 

After  supper,  in  answer  to  the  children's  de 
mand  for  stories,  she  said  almost  petulantly  that 
she  was  "  too  tired,"  and  permitted  Aunt  Eulie  to 
take  them  with  sorrowful  faces  away  to  bed  earlier 
than  usual. 

"  I  need  a  little  rest  and  quiet,"  she  said.. 

Gregory  was  eager  for  further  conversation,  and 
was  willing  even  that  it  should  turn  upon  religious 
topics,  in  order  that  he  might  obtain  some  idea  how 
mercy  would  tinge  her  judgment  of  him  if  she  should 
ever  come  to  know  the  worst,  but  she  suddenly 
seemed  disinclined  to  talk,  or  give  him  any  attention 
at  all. 

Taking  the  arm-chair  he  usually  occupied,  and 
leaving  the  other  for  her  father,  she  leaned  back  lux 
uriously  and  gazed  dreamily  into  the  fire.  Mr.  Wal 
ton  politely  offered  Gregory  his.  Then  Annie,  sud 
denly,  as  if  awakening,  rose  and  said  : 

"  Excuse  me,"  and  was  about  to  vacate. 

But  Gregory  insisted  upon  her  keeping  it,  saying, 
"  You  need  it  more  than  I,  after  the  unusual  fatigues 


272  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  the  day.  .  I  am  no  longer  an  invalid.  Even  the 
ache  in  my  bones  from  my  cold  has  quite  dis 
appeared." 

She  readily  yielded  to  his  wish,  and  again  ap 
peared  to  see  something  in  the  fire  that  quite 
absorbed  her.  After  receiving  a  few  courteous 
monosyllables  he  seemingly  busied  himself  with  a 
magazine. 

Suddenly  she  said  to  her  father : 

"  Are  you  sure  the  steamer  is  due  to-day  ?  " 

He  replied  with  a  nod  and  a  smile  that  Gregory 
did  not  understand,  and  he  imagined  that  she  also 
gave  him  a  quick  look  of  vexed  perplexity. 

She  did,  for  she  expected  her  lover,  Mr.  Hunting, 
who  had  been  abroad  on  a  brief  business  visit,  by 
that  steamer,  and  hoped  that  in  a  day  or  two  he 
would  make  his  appearance.  Conscious  of-  the  bit 
ter  enmity  that  Gregory  for  some  unknown  reason 
cherished  toward  him,  she  dreaded  their  meet 
ing.  As  Gregory  watched  her  furtively,  her  brow 
contracted  into  a  positive  frown.  The  following 
thoughts  were  the  cause : 

"  It  will  be  exceedingly  stiff  and  awkward  to  have 
two  guests  in  the  house  who  are  scarcely  on  speaking 
terms,  and  unless  I  can  make  something  like  peace, 
it  will  be  unendurable.  Moreover,  I  don't  want  any 
strangers  around,  much  less  this  one,  while  Hunting 
is  here." 

Thus  in  the  secret  of  her  soul,  Annie's  hospitality 
gave  out  utterly,  and  in  spirit  she  had  incontinently 
turned  an  unwelcome  guest  out  of  doors.  Now 


OF  ORDINARY  CLA  Y.  273 

that  she  had  really  won  a  vantage  ground  that  could 
be  used  effectively,  all  her  Christian  and  kindly  pur 
poses  were  forgotten  in  the  self-absorption  that  had 
suddenly  mastered  her. 

The  evening  was  a  painful  one  to  Gregory.  His 
sense  of  loneliness  was  deepened,  and  nowhere  is 
such  a  feeling  stronger  than  at  a  fireside  where  one 
feels  that  he  has  no  right  or  part.  Mr.  Walton  was 
occupied  that  evening  with  some  business  papers. 
He  had  not  a  thought  of  discourtesy  toward  his 
guest.  Indeed,  in  the  perfection  of  hospitality,  he 
had  adopted  Gregory  so  completely  into  his  house 
hold  that  he  felt  that  he  could  treat  him  as  one 
of  the  family.  And  yet  Mr.  Walton  was  also  se 
cretly  uneasy  at  the  prospect  of  entertaining  hostile 
guests,  and,  with  his  better  knowledge  of  the  world, 
was  not  so  sure  that  peace  between  them  could  be 
made  in  an  hour. 

The  disposition  of  those  around  us  often  creates 
an  atmosphere,  nothing  tangible  but  something  felt, 
and  the  impression  on  Gregory's  mind,  that  he  be 
longed  not  to  this  household,  but  to  the  outside  world 
— that  the  circle  of  their  lives  did  not  embrace  him, 
and  that  his  visit  might  soon  come  to  an  end  without 
much  regret  on  their  part — was  not  without  cause. 
And  yet  consciously  they  would  have  failed  in  no, 
duty  of  hospitality  had  he  staid  for  weeks. 

But  never  before  had  Gregory  so  felt  his  isola 
tion.  He  had  but  few  relatives,  and  they  were  not 
congenial.  His  life  abroad,  and  neglect,  had  made 
them  comparative  strangers.  But  here,  in  the  home 

T2* 


274  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  his  childhood,  the  dearest  spot  of  earth,  were 
those  who  might  become  equally  loved  with  it. 
In  a  dim,  obscure  way  the  impression  was  growing 
upon  him  that  his  best  chance  for  life  and  happiness 
still  centred  in  the  place  where  he  had  once  known 
true  life  and  happiness. 

Annie  Walton  seemed  to  him  the  embodiment 
of  life.  She  was  governed  and  sustained  by  a  prin 
ciple  that  he  could  not  understand,  and  which  from 
his  soul  he  was  beginning  to  covet. 

His  good  father  and  mother  were  like  old  Mr. 
Walton.  Their  voyage  of  life  was  nearly  over  as 
he  remembered  them,  and  they  were  entering  the 
quiet,  placid  waters  of  the  harbor.  Whether  they 
had  reached  .their  haven  of  rest  through  storm  and 
temptation,  he  did  not  now  know,  but  felt  that  they 
never  could  have  had  the  unfortunate  experience  of 
himself,  who  was  now  threatened  with  utter  wreck. 
They  belonged  to  his  happier,  yet  vanished  past, 
which  could  never  return. 

But  Annie  unexpectedly  awakened  hope  for  the 
present  and  future.  This  eager-eyed,  joyous  girl, 
looking  forward  to  the  life  he  dreaded  with  almost  a 
child's  delight,  this  patient  woman  already  taking 
up  the  cares  and  burdens  of  her  lot  with  cheer 
ful  acceptance — this  strong,  high-principled  maiden, 
facing  and  mastering  temptation  in  the  spirit  of  olden 
time— this  daughter  of  nature  was  full  of  inspiration. 
Never  had  he  found  her  society  a  weariness.  On 
the  contrary,  she  had  stirred  his  slow,  feeble  pulse, 
and  revived  his  jaded  mind,  from  the  first.  Her 


OF  ORDINARY  CLA  Y. 

pure  fresh  thought  and  feeling  had  been  like  a 
breath  from  an  oasis  to  one  perishing  in  the  desert. 
But  chiefly  had  her  kindness,  delicacy,  and  generosity 
when  in  his  moral  and  physical  weakness  he  had 
been  completely  at  her  mercy,  won  his  deepest 
gratitude.  Also  he  felt  that  in  all  his  after  life  he 
could  never  even  think  of  her  touch  upon  his  aching 
temples  without  an  answering  thrill  of  his  whole 
nature  that  appeared  to  have  an  innate  sympathy 
with  hers. 

And  yet  the  exasperating  mystery  of  it  all ! 
While  she  was  becoming  the  one  source  of  life  and 
hope  for  him — while  his  very  soul  cried  out  for  her 
friendship  and  sisterly  regard  (as  he  would  then  have 
said),  she  seemed,  in  her  preoccupation,  unconscious 
of  his  existence,  and  he  instinctively  felt  that  she 
would  bid  him  "  good-by  "  on  the  following  day, 
perhaps,  with  a  sense  of  relief,  and  the  current  of  her 
life  flow  on  as  smoothly  and  brightly  as  if  he  had 
never  caused  a  passing  agitation. 

With  gnawing  remorse  he  inwardly  cursed  his 
evil  life  and  unworthy  character,  for  these  he 
believed  formed  the  hopeless  gulf  that  separated 
them. 

"  It  is  the  same,"  he  said,  fn  his  exaggerated  way, 
"  as  if  a  puddle  should  mirror  the  star  just  above  it, 
and  becoming  enamored,  should  wish  it  to  fall  and 
be  quenched  in  its  foul  depths." 

But  he  did  himself  great  wrong ;  for  in  the  fact 
that  Annie  so  attracted  him,  he  proved  himself  pos 
sessing  large  capabilities  of  good. 


2/6  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

But  he  could  not  bear  to  see  her  sitting  there  so 
quietly  forgetful  of  him,  and  so  made  several  vain 
attempts  during  the  evening  to  draw  her  into  con 
versation.  Finding  her  disinclined  to  talk,  he  at  last 
ventured  to  ask  her  to  sing.  With  something  like 
coldness  she  replied  : 

"  Really,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for 
it  this  evening ;  besides,  I  am  greatly  fatigued." 

What  a  careless,  indifferent  shrug  he  usually  gave 
when  fair  ladies  denied  his  requests !  Now,  for  some 
unaccountable  feason  he  flushed  deeply  and  a  sharp 
pain  came' into  his  heart.  But  he  only  said  :  " 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Walton,  for  not  seeing  this 
myself.  But  you  know  that  I  am  selfishness  em 
bodied,  and  your  former  good  nature  leads  me  to 
presume." 

Annie  gave  him  a  hurried  smile,  as  she  answered, 
"Another  time  I  will  try  to  keep  up  my  character 
better  ;  "  and  then  she  was  absorbed  again  in  a  pic 
ture  among  the  hickory  coals. 

Like  many  who  live  in  the  country  and  are  much 
alone,  she  was  given  to  fits  of  .abstraction  and  long 
reveries.  She  had  no  idea  how  the  time  was  pass 
ing,  and  meant  to  exert  herself  before  the  evening 
was  over  for  the  benefit  of  her  father  and  guest.  But 
her  lively  imagination  could  not  endure  interruption 
till  it  had  completed  some  scenes  connected  with 
him  she  hoped  so  soon  to  see.  Moreover,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  tendency  to  self-absorption  had  been 
developing  rapidly. 

After  the  last  rebuff,  Gregory  was  very  quiet,  and 


OF  OK  DINAR  Y  CLA  Y. 


277 


soon  rose  and  excused  himself,  saying  that  he  had 
taken  longer  walks  than  usual  and  needed  rest. 

Annie  awakened,  as  if  out  of  a  dream,  with  a  pang 
of  self-reproach,  and  said  : 

"  I  have  been  a  wretched  hostess  this  evening. 
I  hope  you  will  forgive  me.  The  fact  is,  I've  been 
talked  out  to-day." 

"  And  I  had  not  the  wit  to  entertain  and  interest 
you,  so  I  need  forgiveness  more.  Good  night." 

Mr.  Walton  looked  up  from  his  business  papers- 
and  smiled  genially  over  his  spectacles,  and  then  was 
as  absorbed  as  before. 

Annie  sat  down  again  with  a  vague  sense  of  dis 
content.  With  their  guest,  her  dreams  also  had 
gone,  and  she  became  conscious  that  she  had  treated 
him  with  a  neglect  that  even  seemed  rude,  and  he 
had  borne  it  in  a  spirit  different  from  that  which  he 
usually  showed.  But  she  petulantly  said  to  herself, 
"  I  can't  always  be  exerting  myself  for  him  as  if  he 
were  a  sick  child." 

But  conscience  replied,  "  You  have  so  much  to 
make  you  happy,  and  he  so  little.  You  are  on  the 
eve  of  a  great  joy,  and  you  might  have  given  him 
one  more  pleasant  evening." 

But  she  met  these  accusations  with  a  harshness- 
all  unlike  herself.  "  It's  his  own  fault  that  he  is  not 
happy.  He  had  no  business  to  spoil  his  life." 

"  Yes,"  retorted  conscience,  "  but  you  have  pro 
mised  and  purposed  to  help  him  find  the  true  life,  and 
now  you  wish  him  out  of  the  way,  and  have  lost  one 
of  your  best  and  perhaps  your  last  opportunity,  for 


278  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

he  will  not  stay  after  Hunting  comes."  And  self- 
condemned,  she  felt  that  she  had  spent  a  very  selfish 
and  profitless  evening. 

For  some  reason  she  did  not  feel  like  staying  to 
prayers  with  her  father  and  Miss  Eulie,  who  now 
came  in,  but,  printing  a  hasty  kiss  on  Mr.  Walton's 
cheek,  said  : 

"  Good  night.     I'm  tired,  and  going  to  bed." 
Even  in  her  own  room  there  was  a  malign  influ 
ence   at   work  that  made  her  devotion  formal  and 
brief,  and  she  went  to  sleep,  "  out  of  sorts/' 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
PASSION  AND  PENITENCE. 

*"PHE  cloud  on  her  brow  had  not  -disappeared  on 

the  ensuing  morning  when  she  came  down  to 

breakfast.     Unless  the  causes  are  removed,  the  bad 

moods  of  one  day  are  apt  to  follow  us  into  the  next. 

Annie  was  now  entering  upon  one  of  those  peri 
ods  when,  in  accordance  with  a  common  expression, 
"  everything  goes  wrong,"  and  the  world  develops  a 
sudden  perverseness  that  distracts  and  irritates  even 
the  patient. 

The  butcher  had  neglected  to  fill  the  order  for 
breakfast,  and  Jeff,  also  under  the  baleful  spell,  had 
killed  an  ancient  hen  instead  of  a  spring  chicken,  to 
supply  the  sudden  need. 

"  Couldn't  cotch  nothin  else,"  he  answered  sto 
lidly  to  Annie's  sharp  reprimand,  so  sharp  that  Greg 
ory,  who  was  walking  toward  the  barn,  was  surprised. 

Zibbie  was  fuming  in  the  broadest  Scotch,  and 
had  spoiled  her  coffee,  and  altogether  it  was  a  sorry 
breakfast  to  which  they  sat  down  that  morning ;  and 
Annie's  worried,  vexed  looks  did  not  make  it  more 
inviting.  Gregory  tried  to  appear  unconscious,  and 
directed  his  conversation  chiefly  to  Mr.  Walton  and 
Miss  Eulie. 


2$o  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Annie,"  said  her  father  humorously,  "  it  seems 
tome  that  this  fowl  must  have  had  reminiscences  of 
the  ark." 

But  she  could  not  take  a  jest  then,  and  pettishly 
answered  that  "if  he  kept  such  stupid  men  as  Jeff/ 
he  could  not  expect  anything  else." 

Annie  was  Jeffs  best  friend,  and  had  interceded 
for  him  in  some  of  his  serious  scrapes,  but  her  mood 
now  was  like  a  gusty  day  that  gives  discomfort 
to  all. 

After  a  few  moments  she  said  suddenly : 

"  Oh,  father,  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  I  invited  the 
Camdens  here  to  dinner  to-day." 

His  face  clouded  instantly,  and  he  looked  exceed 
ingly  annoyed. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,"  he  said. 

"Why  so?*  asked  Annie,  with  an  accent  that 
Gregory  never  heard  Her  use  toward  her  father. 

"  Because  I  will  have  to  be  absent,  forgone  reason. 
I  meant  to  tell  you  about  it  last  evening,  but  you 
seemed  so  occupied  with  your  own  thoughts,  and  dis 
appeared  at  last  so  suddenly,  that  I  did  not  get  a 
chance.  But  there  is  no  help  for  it.  I  have  very 
important  business  that  will  take  me  out  to  Wood- 
ville,  and  you  know  it  requires  a  good  long  day  to  go 
and  come." 

"  It  'will  never  do  in  the  world  for  you  to  be 
away,"  cried  Annie. 

"  Can't  help  it,  my  dear ;  it's  business  that  must  be 
attended  to." 

"  But,  father,"  she  urged,  "  the  Camdens.are  new 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  28 1 

people,  and  said  to  be  very  wealthy.  We  ought  to 
show  them  some  attention.  They  were  so  cordial 
yesterday,  and  spoke  so  handsomely  of  you,  and  said 
how  they  wished  to  meet  you  and  be  very  social,  that 
I  felt  that  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  invite  them. 
For  reasons  you  understand  it  may  not  be  conve 
nient  to  see  them  very  soon  after  to-day." 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  to  share  his  daughter's 
vexation,  but  for  a  different  cause,  and  after  a  mo 
ment  said : 

"  You  are  right,  they  are  '  new  people  '  in  more 
senses  than  one,  and  appear  to  me  to  be  assuming  a 
great  deal  more  than  good  taste  dictates  in  view  of 
the  past.  As  mistress  of  my  home  I  wish  you  to 
feel  that  you  have  the  right  to  invite  any  one  you 
please,  within  certain  limits.  The  Camdens  are  peo 
ple  that  I  would  do  any  kindness  to  and  readily  help 
if  they  were  in  trouble,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  meet 
them  socially." 

Tears  of  shame  and  anger  glistened  in  Annie's 
eyes  as  she  said  : 

"  I'm  sure  you  know  very  well  that  I  wish  to 
entertain  no  vulgar,  pushing  people.  I  knew  nothing 
of  their  '  past.'  They  seemed  pleasant  when  they 
called.  They  were  said  to  have  the  means  to  be 
liberal  if  they  wished,  and  I  thought  they  would 
be  an  acquisition  to  our  neighborhood,  and  that 
we  might  interest  them  in  our  church  and  other 
things." 

"  In  my  view,"  replied  Mr.  Walton  a  little  hotly, 
"  the  church  and  every  good  cause  would  be  better 


282  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

off  without  their  money,  for  in  plain'  English,  it  was 
acquired  in  a  way  that  you  and  I  regard  dishonora 
ble.  I'm  very  sorry  they've  come  to  spend  it  in  our 
neighborhood.  The  fact  may  not  be  generally 
known  here,  but  it  soon  will  be.  I  consider  such 
people  the  greatest  demoralizers  of  the  age,  flaunting 
their  ill-gotten  wealth  in  the  faces  of  the  honest,  and 
causing  the  young  to  think  that  if  they  only  get 
money,  no  matter  how,  society  will  receive  them  all 
the  same.  I  am  annoyed  beyond  measure  that  we 
should  seem  to  give  them  any  countenance  whatever. 
Moreover,  it  is  necessary  that  I  go  to  Woodville." 

"  Oh  dear,"  exclaimed  Annie,  in  a  tone  of  real 
distress,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  If  I  had  only  known  all 
this  before."  Then,  turning  with  sudden  irritation 
to  her  father,  she  asked : 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  about  them  ?  " 

"  Because  you  never  asked,  and  I  saw  no  occasion 
to.  I  do  not  like  to  speak  evil  of  my  neighbors, 
even  if  it  be  true.  I  did  not  know  of  your  call  upon 
them  till  after  it  occurred,  and  then  remarked,  if 
you  will  remember,  that  they  were  people  that  I  did 
not  admire." 

"Yes,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  strong  self- 
disgust,  "  I  do  remember  your  saying  so,  though  I 
had  no  idea  you  meant  anything  like  what  you  now 
state.  The  wretched  mystery  of  it  all  is,  why  could 
I  not  have  remembered  it  yesterday  ?  " 

"Well,  my  dear,"  replied  the  father,  with  the 
glimmer  of  a  smile,  "you  were  a  bit  preoccupied 
yesterday ;  though  I  don't  wonder  at  that." 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE. 


283 


"I  see  it  all  now,'  cried  Annie  impetuously. 
"  But  it  was  with  myself  I  was  preoccupied,  and 
therefore  I  made  a  fool  of  myself.  I  was  rude  to  you 
last  night  also,  Mr.  Gregory,  so  taken  up  was  I  with 
my  own  wonderful  being." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  thought  you  were  think 
ing  of  another,"  said  he  with  a  keen  glance,  and 
she  blushed  so  deeply  that  he  feared  she  was ;  but 
he  added  quickly,  "  You  once  told  me  that  it  was  as 
wrong  to  judge  one's  self  harshly  as  another.  I  assure 
you  that  I've  no  complaints  to  make,  but  rather 
gratitude  for  all  your  kindness.  As  to  this  other 
matter,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  your  ignorance  of 
these  people,  you  have  acted  very  naturally." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  did  not  tell  you  more  about  them," 
said  her  father.  "  I  did  intend  to,  but  somehow 
it  escaped  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Annie  with  a  long  breath,  "  I  am 
fairly  in  the  scrape.  I've  invited  them,  and  the  ques 
tion  now  is  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

The  old  merchant,  with  his  intense  repugnance 
to  anything  like  commercial  dishonesty,  was  deeply 
perturbed.  The  idea  of  entertaining  at  his  board  as 
guest  a  man  with  whom  he  would  not  have  a  busi 
ness  transaction  was  exceedingly  disagreeable.  Leav 
ing  the  unsatisfactory  breakfast  half-finished,  he  rose 
and  paced  the  room  in  his  perplexity.  At  last  he 
spoke,  as  much  to  himself  as  to  his  daughter : 

"  It  shall  never  be  said  that  John  Walton  was 
deficient  in  hospitality.  They  have  been  invited  by 
one  who  had  the  right,  so  let  them  come,  and  be 


284  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

treated  as  guests  ever  are  at  our  house.  This  much 
is  due  to  ourselves.  But  after  to-day  let  our  rela 
tions  be  as  slight  as  possible.  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are 
under  no  obligation  to  meet  such  people,  and  need 
not  appear  unless  you  wish." 

"  With  your  permission  I  will  be  present,  sir,  and 
help  Miss  Walton  entertain  them.  Indeed,  I  can 
claim  such  slight  superiority  to  these  Camdens  or 
any  one  else  that  I  have  no  scruples." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Walton,  with  a  grave, 
questioning  look.  "  I  trust  you  do  not  uphold  the 
theory  that  seems  to  prevail  in  some  commercial 
circles,  that  any  mode  by  which  a  man  can  get  money 
Jfcd  escape  State  prison  is  right  ?  " 

"  I  imagine  I  am  the  last  one  in  the  world  to 
uphold  such  a  '  theory/  "  replied  Gregory  quickly, 
with  one  of  his  expressive  shrugs,  "  inasmuch  as  I 
am  a  poor  man  to-day  because  this  theory  has  been 
put  in  practice  against  me.  No,  Mr.  Walton, ""he. 
continued,  with  the  dignity  of  truth,  "  it  is  but  jus 
tice  to  myself  to  say  that  my  mercantile  life  has 
been  as  pure  as  your  own,  and  that  is  the  highest 
encomium  that  I  could  pass  upon  it.  At  the  same 
time  it  has  been  evident  to  you  from  the  first  day  I 
came  under  your  roof  that  I  am  not  the  good  man 
that  you  loved  in  my  father." 

The  old  gentleman  sighed  deeply.  He  was  too 
straightforward  to  utter  some  trite,  smooth  remark, 
such  as  a  man  of  the  world  might  make.  Regard 
ing  Gregory  kindly,  he  said,  almost  as  if  it  were  a 
prayer : 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  28$ 

"  May  his  mantle  fall  on  you.  You  have  many 
traits  and  ways  that  remind  me  strongly  of  him,  and 
you  have  it  in  you  to  become  like  him." 

Gregory  shook  his  head  in  deep  dejection,  and 
said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  No,  never." 

"  You  know  not  the  power  of  God,"  said  Mr. 
Walton  gravely.  "  At  any  rate,  thank  Him  that  he 
has  kept  you  from  the  riches  of  those  who  I  am 
sorry  to  find  must  be  our  guests  to-day." 

The  children  now  came  in  from  their  early  visit 
to  the  chestnut-trees,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 
Mr.  Walton  left  the  room,  and  Gregory  also,  excused 
himself.  Miss  Eulie  had  taken  no  part  in  the  dis 
cussion.  It  was  not  her  nature  to  do  so.  She  sat 
beaming  with  sympathy  on  both  Annie  and  her 
brother-in-law,  and  purposing  to  do  all  she  could  to 
help  both  out  of  the  dilemma.  She  felt  sorry  for 
them,  and  sorry  for  the  Camdens  and  Gregory,  and 
indeed  everybody  in  this  troubled  world;  but  such 
were  her  pure  thoughts  and  spiritual  life  that  she 
was  generally  on  the  wing,  so  far  above  earthly 
things  that  they  had  little  power  to  depress  her. 

The  burden  of  the  day  fell  upon  Annie,  and  a 
heavy  one  she  found  it.  Her  lack  of  peace  within 
was  reflected  upon  her  face,  and  in  her  satellites  that 
she  usually  managed  with  such  quiet  grace.  Zibbie 
was  in  one  of  her  very  worst  tantrums,  and  when 
she  heard  that  there  was  to  be  company  to  dinner, 
seemed  in  danger  of  flying  into  fragments.  The 
thistle,  the  emblem  of  her  land,  was  a  meek  and 


286  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

downy  flower  compared  with  this  ancient  -  dame. 
When  she  took  up  or  laid  down  any  utensil,  it  was 
in  a  way  that  bid  fair  to  reduce  the  kitchen  to  chaos 
before  night.  Jeff  had  "  got  his  back  up  "  also  about 
the  hen,  and  was  as  stupid  and  sullen  as  only  Jeff 
knew  how  to  be ;  and  even  quiet  Hannah  was  almost 
driven  to  frenzy  by  Zibbie  reproaching  her  for 
being  everything  under  heaven  that  she  knew  she 
was  not.  In  her.  usual  state  of  mind  Annie  could 
have  partly  allayed  the  storm,  and  poured  oil  on  the 
troubled  waters,  but  now  disquietude  sat  on  her  own 
brow,  and  she  gave  her  orders  in  the  sharp,  deci 
sive  tone^that  compels  reluctant  obedience. 

The  day  was  raw  and  uncomfortable,  and  Greg 
ory  resolved  to  make  his  easy-chair  by  the  parlor 
fire  the  point  from  which  he  would  watch  the  devel 
opment  of  this  domestic  drama.  He  had  no  vulgar, 
prying  curiosity,  but  an  absorbing  interest  in  the 
chief  actor;  and  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the 
being  that  he  had  come  to  regard  as  faultless,  was 
growing  human  faster  than  he  liked. 

This  impression  was  confirmed  when  the  children 
came  tearing  through  the  main  hall  past  the  parlor 
to  the  dining-room  opposite,  which  they  entered, 
leaving  the  door  open.  Annie  was  there  preparing 
the  dessert.  Country  housekeepers  can  rarely  leave 
these  matters  to  rural  cooks,  and  Zibbie  could  be 
trusted  to  sweeten  nothing  that  day. 

With  exclamations  of  delight  the  children  clam 
ored  to  help,  or  "  muss  "  a  little  in  their  own  way, 
a  privilege  often  given  them  at  such  times.  But 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  287 

Annie  sent  them  out  of  doors  again  with  a  tone  and 
manner  that  caused  them  to  tip-toe  back  past  the 
parlor  with  a  scared  look  on  their  little  faces,  and 
the  dining-room  door  was  shut  with  a  bang. 

Gregory  was  puzzled.  Here  was  one  who  had 
foiled  his  most  adroit  temptations,  and  resisted 
wrong  in  a  way  that  was  simply  heroic,  first  showing 
something  very  like  vanity  and  selfishness,  and  then 
temper  and  passion  on  what  seemed  but  slight  pro 
vocation.  He  did  not  realize,  as  so  many  do  not, 
that  the  petty  vexations  of  life  will  often  sting  one 
who  has  the  courage  and  strength  to  be  a  martyr, 
into  the  most  humiliating  displays  of  weakness. 
Generals  who  were  as  calm  and  grand  in  battle  as 
Mont  Blanc  in  a  storm,  have  been  known  to  fume 
like  small  beer,  in  camp,  at  very  slight  annoyances. 

Annie's  spirit  was  naturally  quick  and  imperious, 
brooking  opposition  from  no  one.  She  was  also 
fond  of  approbation.  She  rated  Gregory's  hollow 
French  gallantry  at  its  true  worth,  but  his  subse 
quent  sincere  respect  and  admiration,  after  their 
mountain  adventure,  had  unconsciously  elated  her, 
especially  as  she  felt  that  she  had  earned  it  well. 

Thus,  when  he  had  not  intended  it,  and  had 
given  over  his  purpose  to  tempt  her  as  hopeless,  and 
dropped  it  in  self-loathing  that  he  should  ever  have 
entertained  it,  he  had  by  his  honest  gratitude  and 
esteem  awakened  the  dormant  vanity,  which  was 
more  sensitive  to  tributes  to  her  character  than  mere 
compliments  to  her  person.  The  attention  she  had 
received  the  day  before  had  developed  this  self-corn- 


288  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

placency  still  more,  and  the  nice  balance  of  her  moral 
life  had  been  disturbed. 

It  would  seem  that  the  tempter  watches  for 
every  vantage.  At  any  rate,  as  she  expressed  it, 
"  everything  went  wrong "  to-day.  One  weakness, 
one  wrong  prepares  the  way  for  another  as  surely  as 
when  one  soldier  of  Diabolus  gets  within  the  city  he 
will  open  the  gates  to  others ;  and  Annie's  temper, 
that  she  had  so  long  and  prayerfully  schooled,  was 
the  weak  point  inevitably  assailed.  She  was  found 
with  her  armor  off.  She  had  closed  the  preceding 
and  entered  on  the  present  day  with  the  form  and 
not  the  reality  of  prayer.  Therefore  it  was  Annie 
Walton  alone  who  was  coping  with  temptation.  She 
felt  that  all  was  wrong  without  and  within.  She 
felt  that  she  ought  to  go  to  God  at  once  in  acknow 
ledgment  and  penitence,  and  regain  her  peace ;  but 
pride  and  passion  were  aroused.  She  was  hurried 
and  worried,  full  of  impotent  revolt  at  herself  and 
everything.  She  was  in  no  mood  for  the  sacred 
quiet  of  her  closet,  and  dreaded  the  self-examina 
tion  that  she  knew  must  come.  She  was  like  a  little 
wayward  child,  that,  while  it  loves  its  parents,  yet 
grieves  and  wrongs  them  by  lack  of  obedience  and 
simple  trust ;  and  having  wronged  them,  partly  from 
pride  and  partly  from  fear,  does  not  humbly  seek 
reconciliation. 

The  obnoxious  guests  came,  and  the  dinner  fol 
lowed.  Mr.  Walton  was  the  embodiment  of  stately 
courtesy,  but  it  was  a  courtesy  due  to  John  Walton 
rather  than  to  them,  and  it  somewhat  awed  and 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  289 

depressed  the  Camdens.  Zibbie  had  done  her  best 
to  spoil  the  dinner,  and,  in  spite  of  Annie,  had  suc 
ceeded  tolerably  well.  Only  the  dessert,  which  Annie 
had  made,  did  credit  to  her  housekeeping.  Hannah 
waited  on  them  as  she  might  if  she  were  assisting  at 
their  obsequies.  Altogether  it  was  a  rather  heavy 
affair,  though  Gregory  honestly  did  his  best  to  en 
tertain,  and  talked  on  generalities  and  life  abroad, 
which  the  Camdens  were  glad  to  hear  about,  so  in 
cessantly  that  he  scarcely  had  time  to  eat.  But  he 
was  abundantly  rewarded  by  a  grateful  look  from 
Annie. 

As  for  herself,  she  could  not  converse  connectedly 
or  well.  She  was  trammelled  by  her  feeling  toward 
the  guests ;  she  was  so  vexed  with  herself,  mortified 
with  the  dinner,  and  angry  with  Zibbie,  whom  she 
mentally  vowed  to  discharge  at  once,  that  she  felt 
more  like  crying  than  talking  graceful  nonsense  ;  for 
the  Camdens  soon  proved  themselves  equal  only  to 
chit-chat.  She  sat  at  her  end  of  the  table,  red,  flur 
ried,  and  nervous,  as  different  from  the  refined,  ele 
gant  .hostess  that  she  could  be,  as  she  herself  differed 
from  the  Annie  of  other  days. 

Gregory  was  also  much  interested  in  observing 
how  one  so  truthful  would  act  under  the  circum 
stances,  and  he  saw  that  she  was  sorely  puzzledxon- 
ffhually  between  her  effort  to  be  polite  and  honest. 

The  Camdens  were  puzzled  also,  and  severely 
criticised  their  entertainers,  mentally  concluding  and 
afterward  asserting  with  countless  variations,  that 
"  Miss  Walton  was  wonderfully  overrated — that  she 


290 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


was  a  poor  housekeeper,  and,  they  should  judge,  but 
little  accustomed  to  good  society." 

"  I  never  saw  a  girl  so  flustered,"  Mrs.  Camden 
would  remark  complacently.  "  Perhaps  our  city 
style  rather  oppressed  her ;  and  as  for  Mr.  Walton, 
he  put  on  so  much  dignity  that  he  leaned  over 
backward.  They  evidently  don't  belong  to  our 
set." 

That  was  just  the  trouble,  and  Mrs.  Camden  was 
right  and  wrong  at  the  same  time. 

Their  early  departure  was  a  relief  to  both  parties. 
Mr.  Walton  drew  a  long  breath  of  immeasurable 
relief,  and  then  called  briskly  to  Jeff,  who  was  coming 
up  from  the  garden  : 

"  Harness  Dolly  to  my  buggy." 

"Why,  father,  where  are  you  going?"  exclaimed 
Annie. 

"  To  Woodville." 

"Now  father — "  began  Annie,  laying  hold  of  his 
arm. 

"  Not  a  word,  my  dear  ;  I  must  go." 

"  But  it  will  be  late  in  the  night  before  you  can 
get  back.  The  day  is  cold  and  raw,  and  it  looks  as 
if  it  would  rain." 

"  I  can't  help  it.  It's  something  I  can't  put  off. 
Hurry  Jeff,  and  get  ready  to  go  with  me." 

"  Oh  dear !"  cried  Annie;  "  this  is  the  worst  6i 
all.  Let  me  go  for  you — please  do." 

"  I'm  not  a  child, ".said  the  old  gentleman  irrita 
bly.  "  Since  I  could  not  go  this  morning,  I  must  go 
now.  Please  don't  worry  me.  It's  public  business 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  29 1 

that  I  have  no  right  to  delay,  and  I  promised  that  it 
should  be  attended  to  to-day ;"  and  with  a  hasty 
"  good-by  "  he  took  his  overcoat  and  started. 

Annie  was  almost  beside  herself  with  vexation 
and  self-reproach,  and  her  feelings  must  find  vent 
somewhere.  Gregory  prudently  retired  to  his  room. 

"  There's  Zibbie,"  she  thought;  "  I'll  teach  her 
one  lesson."  And  she  went  to  the  kitchen  and  dis 
charged  the  old  servant  on  the  spot. 

Zibbie  was  in  such  a  reckless  state  of  passion  that 
she  didn't  care  if  the  world  came  "to  an  end.  The 
only  comfort  Annie  got  in  this  direction  was  a  vol 
ley  of  impudence. 

"  I  hod  discharged  mesel  afore  ye  spoke,"  said 
the  irate  dame.  "  An'  ye  think  I'm  gang  to  broil  an 
ould  hen  for  a  spring  chicken  in  peace  and  quietness 
ye're  a'  wrong.  An'  then  to  send  that  dour  nagur  a 
speerin  roun  among  my  fowl  that  I've  raised  from 
babies— I'll  na  ston  it.  I'll  go,  I'll  go,  but  ye'll  greet 
after  the  ould  'ooman  for  a'  o'  that." 

Annie  then  retreated  to  the  sitting-room,  where 
Miss  Eulie  was  placidly  mending  Susie's  torn  apron, 
and  poured  into  her  ears  the  story  of  her  troubles. 

"To  be  sure — to  be  sure,"  Aunt  Eulie  would 
answer  soothingly ;  "  but  then,  Annie  dear,  it  all 
won't  make  any  difference  a  hundred  years  from 
now." 

This  only  irritated  Annie  more,  and  at  the  same 
time  impressed  her  with  her  own  folly  in  being  so 
disturbed  by  comparative  trifles. 

Gregory  found  his  room  chill  and  comfortless, 


292  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

therefore  he  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  started  for  a 
walk,  full  of  surprised  and  painful  musings.  As  he 
was  descending  the  stairs,  Johnnie  came  running  in, 
crying  in  a  tone  of  real  distress : 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Annie,  Aunt  Annie,  I'm  so  sorry,  so 
very  sorry —  " 

Annie  came  running  out  of  the  sitting-room  door, 
exclaiming  sharply : 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  now !  Hasn't 
there  been  trouble  enough  for  one  day?" 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  sobbed  the  little  boy,  "  but  I 
got  a  letter  at  the  post-office,  and  I — I — lost  it  com 
ing  across  the  lots,  and  I — I — can't  find  it." 

This  was  too  much.  This  was  the  ardently 
looked-for  letter  that  had  glimmered  like  a  star  of 
hope  and  promise  of  better  things  throughout  this 
miserable  day,  and  Annie  lost  all  control  of  herself. 
Rushing  upon  the  child,  she  cried  : 

'*  You  naughty,  careless  boy  !  I'll  give  you  one 
lesson,"  and  she  shook  him  violently,  when  Greg 
ory's  indignation  so  got  the  better  of  him  that  he 
said,  in  a  low,  deep  tone  : 

"  Miss  Walton,  the  child  says  he  is  '  very,  very 
sorry.'  He  has  not  meant  to  do  wrong,  and  he  is  an 
orphan." 

Annie  started  back  as  if  she  were  committing 
sacrilege,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  Her 
back  was  toward  Gregory,  but  he  could  see  the  hot 
blood  mantling  her  very  neck.  She  stood  there  for 
a  moment,  trembling  like  a  leaf,  and  he,  repenting  of 
his  hasty  words,  was  about  to  apologize,  when  she 


PASSION  AND  PENITENCE.  293 

suddenly  caught  the  boy  in  her  arms,  and  sped  past 
him,  up  the  stairs  to  her  own  room. 

To  his  dying  day  he  would  never  forget  the 
expression  of  her  face. 

It  cannot  be  described.  It  was  the  look  of  a 
noble  spirit,  deeply  wounded,  profoundly  penitent. 
Her  intense  feeling  was  contagious,  and  the  rough 
October  winds  brushed  a  tear  from  his  own  eyes 
more  than  once  before  he  returned. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A  WOMAN. 

HP  HE  cold,  cynical  man  of  the  world  was  in  a  maze. 
He  was  deeply  and  painfully  surprised  at  Miss 
Walton,  and  scarcely  less  so  at  himself.  How  could 
he  account  for  the  tumult  at  his  heart !  When  he 
first  saw  that  outburst  of  passion  against  a  trembling, 
pleading  child,  he  felt  that  he  wished  to  leave  the 
house  then  and  forever.  The  next  moment,  when 
he  saw  Annie's  face  as  she  convulsively  clasped  the 
boy  to  her  breast,  and  with  supernatural  strength 
fled  to.  the  refuge  of  her  room,  he  was  not  only 
instantly  disarmed  of  anger,  but  touched  and  melted 
as  he  had  never  been  before. 

Feeling  is  sometimes  so  intense  that  it  is  like  the 
lightning,  and  burns  its  way  instantly  to  the  con 
sciousness  of  others.  Words  of  condemnation  would 
have  died  on  the  lips  of  the  sternest  judge  had  he 
seen  Annie's  face.  It  would  have  shown  him  that 
the  harshest  things  that  he  could  utter  were  already 
anticipated  in  unmeasured  self-upbraidings. 

From  anger  and  disgust  Gregory  passed  to  the 
profoundest  pity.  The  children's  unbounded  affec 
tion  for  Annie  proved  that  she  was  usually  kind  and 
patient  toward  them.  A  little  thought  convinced 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A   WOMAN. 

him  that  the  act  he  saw  was  a  sudden  outburst  of 
passion  which  the  exasperating  events  of  the  day 
had  prepared  for.  Her  face  showed  as  no  language 
could  how  sincere  and  deep  would  be  her  repent 
ance. 

He  had  not  gone  very  far  into  the  early  twilight 
of  a  grove  before  he  was  conscious  of  a  strong  and 
secret  exultation. 

"  She  is  not  made  of  different  clay  from  others," 
he  said.  "  She  cannot  condemn  me  so  utterly  now  ; 
and  in  view  of  what  I  have  seen,  she  cannot  loftily 
deny  the  kinship  of  human  weakness. 

"  What  a  nature  she  has,  with  its  subterranean 
fires  !  She  is  none  of  your  cool,  calculating  creatures, 
who  cipher  out  from  day  to  day  what  is  policy  to 
do.  She  will  act  rightly  till  there  is  an  irrepressible 
irruption,  and  then,  beware.  And  yet  these  ebulli 
tions  enrich  her  life  as  the  lava  flow  does  the  sides  of 
Vesuvius.  I  shall  be  greatly  disappointed  if  she  is 
not  ten  times  more  kind,  sympathetic,  and  self-for 
getful  than  she  was  before  ;  and  as  for  that  boy,  she 
will  keep  him  in  the  tallest  clover  for  weeks  to  come, 
to  make  up  for  this. 

"  How  piquant  she  is !  I  do  not  fear  her  quick, 
flame-like  spirit  when  it  is  combined  with  so  much 
conscience  and  principle.  Indeed,  I  like  her  passion. 
It  warms  my  cold,  heavy  heart.  I  wish  she  had 
shaken  me,  who  deserved  it,  instead  of  the  child,-and 
if  any  makings  up  like  that  in  yonder  room  could 
follow,  I  would  like  to  be  shaken  every  day  in  the 
week.  It  would  make  a  new  man  of  me." 


296  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

In  the  excitement  of  his  feelings,  he  had  gone 
farther  than  he  realized,  and  the  dusk  was  deepening 
fast  when  he  reached  the  house  on  his  return.  He 
felt  not  a  little  uneasy  as  to  his  reception  after  the 
severe  rebuke  he  had  given,  but  counted  much  on 
Annie's  just  and  generous  disposition.  He  entered 
quietly  at  a  side  door  and  passed  through  the  dining- 
room  into  the  hall.  The  lamp  in  the  parlor  was  un- 
lighted,  but  the  bright  wood  fire  shed  a  soft,  uncer 
tain  radiance  throughout  the  room.  A  few  notes  of 
prelude  were  struck  on  the  piano,  and  he  knew  that 
Miss  Walton  was  there.  Stepping  silently  forward 
opposite  the  open  door,  he  stood  in  the  dark  hall 
watching  her  as  she  sang  the  following  words  : 

My  Father,  once  again  thy  wayward  child 

In  sorrow,  shame,  and  weakness  comes  to  thee, 

Confessing  all  my  sin,  my  passion  wild, 
My  selfishness  and  petty  vanity. 


O  Jesus,  gentle  Saviour,  at  thy  feet 
'     I  fall,  where  often  I  have  knelt  before  ; 
Thou  wilt  not  spurn,  nor  charge  me  with  deceit, 
Because  old  faults  have  mastered  me  once  more. 

Thou  knowest  that  I  would  be  kind  and  true, 
And  that  I  hate  the  sins  that  pierced  thy  side — 

Thou  seest  that  I  often  sadly  view 

The  wrong  that  in  my  heart  will  still  abide. 

But  thou  didst  come  such  erring  ones  to  save, 
And  weakness  wins  thy  strong  and  tender  love  ; 

So  not  in  vain  I  now  forgiveness  crave, 

And  cling  to  hopes  long  stored  with  thee  above. 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  29? 

And  yet  I  plead  that  thou  would'st  surely  keep 
My  weak  and  human  heart  in  coming  days  : 

Though  now  in  penitence  I  justly  weep, 

Oh,  fill  my  future  life  with  grateful  praise.  •--*••• 

As  in  tremulous,  melting  tones  she  sang  this  sim 
ple  prayer  with  tears  glistening  in  her  eyes,  Gregory 
was  again  conscious  of  the  strong  answering  emotion 
which  the  presence  of  deep  feeling  in  those  bound 
to  us  by  some  close  tie  of  sympathy  often  excites. 

But  far  more  than  mere  feeling  moved  him  now. 
Her  words  and  manner  vivified  an  old  truth  familiar 
from  infancy,  but  which  he  had  never  realized  nor 
intelligently  believed — the  power  of  prayer  to  secure 
practical  help  from  God. 

^  How  often  men  have  lived  and  died  poor  just 
above  mines  of  untold  wealth.  Gaunt  famine  has 
been  the  inmate  of  households,  while  there  were 
buried  treasures  under  the  hearth-stone,  "f-* 

So  multitudes  in  their  spiritual  life  are  weak, 
despairing,  perishing,  when  by  the  simple  divinely 
appointed  means  of  prayer  they  might  fill  their  lives 
with  strength  and  fulness.  How  long  men  suffered 
and  died  with  diseases  that  seemed  incurable  before 
they  discovered  in  some  common  object  a  potent 
remedy  that  relieved  pain  and  restored  health. 

As  is  the  case  with  many  brought  up  in  Chris 
tian  homes,  with  no  one  thing  was  Gregory  more 
familiar  than  prayer.  For  many  years  he  had  said 
prayers  daily,  and  yet  he  had  seldom  in  all  his  life 
prayed,  and  of  late  years  had  come  to  be  a  practical 

13* 


298  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

infidel  in  regard  to  the  whole  matter.  People  who 
only  say  prayers,  and  expect  slight,  or  no  results 
from  them,  or  are  content  year  after  year  to  see  no 
results — who  lack  simple,  honest,  practical  faith  in 
God's  word,  such  as  they  have  in  that  of  their  physi 
cian  or  banker — who  only  feel  that  they  ought  to 
pray,  and  that  in  some  vague,  mystical  manner  it 
may  do  them  good,  are  very  apt  to  end  as  skeptics 
as  to  its  efficacy  and  value.  Or  they  may  become 
superstitious,  and  continue  to  say  prayers  as  the 
poor  Indian  mutters  his  "  hocus  pocus  "  to  keep  off  the 
witches.  \God  hears  prayer  when  his  children  cry  to 
him — when  his  faithful  friends  speak  to  him  straight 
and  true  from  their  hearts;  and  such  know  well  that 
they  are  answered. 

As  Gregory  looked  at  and  listened  to  Annie 
Walton,  he  could  no  more  believe  that  she  was  ex 
pressing  a  little  aimless  religious  emotion  just  as  she 
would  sing  a  sentimental  ballad,  than  he  could  think 
that  she  was  only  showing  purposeless  filial  affection 
if  she  were  hanging  on  her  father's  arm  and  pleading 
for  something  vital  to  her  happiness.  The  thought 
flashed  across  him  : 

"  Here  may  be  the  secret  of  her  power  to  do 
right — the  help  she  gets  from  a  source  above  and 
beyond  herself.  Here  may  be  the  key  both  to  her 
strength  and  weakness.  Here  glimmers  light  even 
for  me." 

Annie  was  about  to  sing  again,  but  the  interest 
which  she  had  awakened  was  so  strong  that  he  could 
not  endure  delay.  Anxiety  as  to  his  personal  recep- 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  299 

tion  was  forgotten,  and  he  stepped  forward  and  inter 
rupted  her  with  a  question. 

"  Miss  Walton,  do  you  honestly  believe  that?" 

"  Believe  what  ?  "  said  she  hastily,  quite  startled. 

"  What  I  gathered  from  the  hymn  you  sang — 
that  your  prayer  is  really  heard  and  answered  ?  " 

u  Why,  certainly  I  believe  it,"  said  Annie  in  a 
shocked  and  pained  tone.  "  Do  you  think  me  capa 
ble  of  mockery  in  such  things  ?  And  yet,"  she  added 
sadly,  "  perhaps  after  to-day  you  think  me  capable  of 
anything." 

"  Now  you  do  both  yourself  and  me  wrong," 
Gregory  eagerly  replied.  "  I  do  believe  you  are  sin 
cerely  trying  to  obey  your  conscience.  Did  I  not 
see  your  look  of  sorrow  as  you  passed  me  on  the 
stairs  ? — when  will  I  forget  it !  Remember  words 
that  must  have  been  inspired,  which  you  once  quoted 
to  me  ? 

f  *  Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied 
Is  not  of  heaven  nor  earth.' 

And  pardon  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  been 
listening  the  last  few  moments,  out  in  the  hall. 
Your  tones  and  manner  would  melt  the  heart  of  an 
infidel,  and  they  have  made  me  wish  that  I  were  not 
so  unbelieving.  Forgive  me  for  even  putting  such 
thoughts  in  your  mind — I  feel  it  is  wicked  and  self 
ish  in  me  to  do  it — but  how  do  you  know  that  your 
prayer,  though  so  direct  and  sincere,  was  not  sound 
lost  in  space  ?  " 

"  Because  it  has  been  answered,"  she  replied 
eagerly.  "  Peace  came  even  as  I  spoke  the  words. 


3<DO  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Because  whenever  I  really  pray  to  God  he  answers 
me." 

They  now  stood  on  opposite  sides  of  the  hearth, 
with  the  glowing  fire  between  them.  In  its  light 
Annie's  wet  eyes  glistened,  but  she  had  forgotten 
herself  in  her  sincere  and  newly  awakened  interest  in 
him  whom  she  had  secretly  hoped  and  purposed 
before  to  lead  to  better  things.  It  had  formed  no 
small  part  of  her  keen  self-reproach  that  she  had 
forgotten  that  purpose,  and  wished  him  out  of  the 
way,  just  as  she  was  beginning  to  gain  a  decided 
influence  over  him  for  good.  After  what  he  had 
witnessed  that  afternoon  she  felt  that  he  would 
never  listen  to  her  again. 

He  would  not  had  he  detected  the  slightest  tinge 
of  acting  or  insincerity  on  her  part,  but  her  penitence 
had  been  as  real  as  her  passion. 

She  was  glad  and  grateful  indeed  when  he  ap 
proached  her  again  in  the  spirit  he  now  manifested, 
and  hoped  she  saw  the  leadings  of  a  kind  Providence 
bringing  "  good  out  of  evil." 

As  she  stood  there  in  the  firelight,  self-forgetful, 
conscious  only  of  her  wish  to  say  some  words  that 
would  be  like  light  to  him,  her  large  humid  eyes 
turned  up  to  his  face,  she  made  a  picture  that  his 
mother  would  like  to  see.  Perhaps  she  did,  bending 
from  heaven  with  the  angels  who  watch  for  one 
sinner's  repentance. 

He  leaned  against  the  .mantel  and  looked  deject 
edly  into  the  fire.  After  a  moment  he  said  sadly  : 

"  I   envy  you,   Miss   Walton.     I    wish    I    could 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN. 


301 


believe  in  a  personal  God  who  thought  about  us  and 
cared  for  us — that  is,  each  one  of  us.  Of  course  I 
believe  in  a  Supreme  Being — a  great  First  Cause  ;  but 
lie  hides  himself  behind  the  stars — he  is  lost  to  me 
in  his  vast  universe.  I  think  my  prayers  once  had  an 
effect  on  my  own  mind,  and  so  did  me  some  good. 
But  that's  past,  and  now  I  might  as  well  pray  to 
gravitation  as  to  anything  else." 

Then  turning  to  her,  he  caught  her  wistful,  inter 
ested  look — an  -expression  which  said  plainly,  "  I 
want  to  help  you,"  and  it  touched  him.  He  con 
tinued  feelingly : 

"Perhaps  you  are  not  conscious  of  it,  but  you 
now  look  as  if  you  cared  whether  I  was  good  or  bad, 
was  sad  or  unhappy,  lived  or  died.  If  I  could  only 
see  that  God  cared  in  something  the  same  way !  He 
no  doubt  intends  to  do  what  is  best  for  the  race  in 
the  long  run,  but  that  may  involve  my  destruction. 
I  dread  his  terrible,  inexorable  laws." 

"  Alas,"  said  Annie,  tears  welling  up  into  her 
eyes,  "  I  am  not  wise  enough  to  argue  out  these 
matters  and  demonstrate  the  truth.  I  suppose  it 
can  be  done  by  those  who  know  how." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head  deci 
sively. 

"  Well,  I  can  only  tell  you  what  I  feel  and 
know." 

"  That  is  better  than  argument — that  is  what  1 
would  like.  You  are  not  a  weak,  sentimental  woman, 
full  of  mysticism  and  fancies,  and  I  would  have  much 
confidence  in  what  you  know  and  feel." 


302  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Do  not  say  that  I  am  not  a  weak  woman.  I 
have  shown  you  better.  Be  sincere  with  me,  for  I 
am  with  you.  Well,  it  seems  to  me  that  this  ques 
tion  of  prayer  is  simply  one  of  fact.  VWe  know  that 
God  answers  prayer,  not  only  because  he  said  he 
would,  but  because  he  does.  From  my  own  expe 
rience  I  am  as  certain  of  it  as  of  my  existence. 
I  think  that  many  who  sneer  or  doubt  in  regard 
to  prayer  are  very  unfair.  I  ask  you,  is  it  scienti 
fic  for  men  to  say,  Nothing  is  true  save  what 
we  have  seen  and  known  ourselves  ?  How  that 
would  limit  one's  knowledge  !  If  some  facts  are 
discovered  in  Europe  and  established  by  a  few  proper 
witnesses,  we  believe  them  here.  Now  in  every  age 
multitudes  have  said  that  it  was  a  fact  that  God  heard 
and  answered  their  prayers.  What  right  has  any  one 
to  ignore  these  truths  any  more  than  any  other 
truths  of  human  experience  ?  I  ask  my  earthly  father 
for  something.  The  next  day  I  find  it  on  my  dress 
ing-table.  Is  it  a  delusion  to  believe  that  he  heard 
and  granted  my  request  ?  When  I  ask  my  Heavenly 
Father  for  outward  things,  he  sometimes  gives  them, 
and  sometimes  he  does  not,  as  he  sees  is  best  for 
me,  just  as  my  parents  did  when  I  was  a  little  child. 
And  I  have  already  seen  that  he  has  often  been 
kinder  in  refusing.  \But  when  I  ask  for  that  which 
will  meet  my  deeper  and  spiritual  needs  I  seldom  ask 
in  vain.  If  you  should  ask  me  how  do  I  know  it, 
I  in  return  ask  how  do  you  know  that  you  are  ill,  or 
well,  that  you  are  glad  or  sad,  or  tired,  or  anything 
about  yourself  that  depends  on  your  own  inner  con- 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN. 


303 


sciousness.  If  I  should  say  unjust,  insulting  things 
to  you  now,  how  would  you  know  you  were  angry  ? 
If  I  should  say,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  mocking  me  ; 
what  I  am  now  saying  has  no  interest  for  you. 
You  don't  hear  me,  you  don't  understand  me,  you 
are  thinking  of  something  else.  Suppose  that  I 
should  say  I  want  mathematical  proof  that  you  do 
feel  an  interest — or  physical  proof,  something  that  I 
can  measure,  weigh,  or  see,  would  I  be  reasonable  ? 
Do  I  make  it  clear  to  you  why  I  say  I  know  this  ?  " 

"  Clearer  than  it  was  ever  made  to  me  before.  I 
cannot  help  seeing  that  you  are  sincere  and  sure 
about  it.  But  pardon  me — I've  got  in  such  an 
inveterate  habit  of  doubting — are  not  good  Catholics 
just  as  sure  about  the  Virgin  and  the  saints  hearing 
and  answering  them,  and  do  not  pagans  feel  the 
same  way  about  their  deities  ?  " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Annie  with  a  little 
indignant  reproach  in  her  tone,  "  do  you  think  it 
just  and  reasonable  to  compare  my  faith,  or  that  of 
any  intelligent  Christian,  with  the  gross  superstition 
you  name?  Christianity  is  not  embraced  only  by 
the  ignorant  and  weak-minded  :  multitudes  of  the 
best  and  ripest  scholars  in  the  world  are  honest 
believers." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,  I  did  not  mean  you  to 
draw  any  such  inference  as  that,"  replied  he  hastily 
and  in  some  confusion. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  any  other  can  be  drawn,"  she 
continued  ;  "  and  I  know  from  what  I  have  read  and 
heard  that  unbelievers  usually  seek  to  give  that  im- 


304  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

pression.  But  it's  not  a  fair  one.  The  absurdities  of 
paganism,  monkish  legends,  and  even  the  plausible 
errors  of  the  Romish  Church,  will  not  endure  the 
light  of  intelligent  education  ;  but  the  more  I  know 
the  more  I  see  the  beauty  and  perfection  of  the 
Christian  religion  and  the  reasonableness  of  prayer, 
and  so  it  is  with  far  stronger  and  wiser  heads  than 
mine.  Your  father  and  mine  were  never  men  to  be 
imposed  upon,  nor  to  believe  anything  just  because 
they  were  told  to  do  so  when  children." 

*'  Really,  Miss  Walton,  you  said  you  couldn't 
argue  about  this  matter.  I  think  you  can,  like  a 
lawyer." 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  am  using  a  lawyer's  prover 
bial  slight  of  hand,  I'm  sorry." 

"  I  don't  mean  that  at  all,  but  that  you  put  your 
facts  in  such  a  way  that  it's  hard  to  meet  them." 

"  I  only  try  to  use  common  sense.  It's  about  the 
only  sense  I  have.  But  I  was  in  hopes  you  did  not 
want  to  meet  what  I  say  adversely,  but  would  like 
to  believe." 

u  I  would,  Miss  Walton,  honestly  I  would ;  but 
wishes  go  little  way  against  stubborn  doubt.  This 
one  now  rises  :  How  is  it  that  scientific  men  are  so 
apt  to  become  infidel  in  regard  to  the  Bible  and  its 
teachings,  and  specially  prayer  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  hardly  know,"  she  answered  with  a 
sigh  ;  "  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think.  I  don't  be 
lieve  the  majority  of  them  know  much  about  either 
the  Bible  or  prayer.  With  my  little  smattering  of 
geology  I  would  think  it  very  presuming  to  give  an 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN 


305 


opinion  contrary  to  that  held  by  the  best  authorities 
in  that  science;  and  I  think  it  very  presuming  in 
those  who  rarely  look  into  a  Bible,  and  never  pray, 
to  tell  those  who  read  and  pray  daily,  that  they 
don't  know  what  they  do  know.  Then  again,  scien 
tific  people  often  apply  gross  material  tests  to  mat 
ters  of  faith  and  religious  experience.  The  thing  is 
absurd.  Suppose  a  man  should  seek  to  investigate 
light  with  a  pair  of  scales  that  could  not  weigh  any 
thing  less  than  a  pound.  There  is  a  spiritual  and 
moral  world  as  truly  as  a  physical,  and  spiritual 
facts  are  just  as  good  to  build  on  as  any  other;  and 
I  should  'think  they  ought  to  be  better,  because  the 
spirit  is  the  noblest  part  of  us.  A  man  who  sees 
only  one  side  of  a  mountain  has  no  right  to  declare 
that  the  other  is  just  like  it.  Then  again  your  sci 
entific  oracles  are  always  contradicting  each  other, 
and  upsetting  one  another's  theories.  Science  to 
day  laughs  at  the-absurdities  believed  by  the  learned 
a  hundred  years  ago ;  and  so  will  much  that  is  now 
called  science,  and  because  of  which  men  doubt  the 
Bible,  be  laughed  at  in  the  future.  But  my  belief  is 
the  same  substantially  as  that  of  Paul,  Augustine, 
Luther,  and  the  best  people  of  my  own  age;  and 
Luther,  who  did  more  for  the  world  than  any  mere 
man,  said  that  to  '  pray  well  was  to  work  well.' " 

When  Annie  was  under  mental  excitement,  she 
was  a  rapid,  fluent  talker,  and  this  was  specially  her 
condition  this  evening.  As  she  looked  earnestly  at 
Gregory  as  she  spoke,  her  dark  eyes  glowing  with 
feeling  and  intelligence  and  lighting  her  whole  face, 


306  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

he  was  impressed  more  than  he  could  have  been  by 
the  labored  arguments  of  a  cool,  logical  scholar.  Her 
intense  earnestness  put  a  soul  into  the  body  of  her 
words.  He  was  affected  more  than  he  wished  her  to 
know,  more  than  was  agreeable  to  his  pride.  What 
she  had  said  seemed  so  perfectly  true  and  real  to  her, 
that  for  the  time  she  made  it  true  to  him  ;  and  yet  to 
admit  that  his  long-standing  doubts  could  not  endure 
so  slight  an  assault  as  this,  was  to  show  that  they 
had  a  very  flimsy  basis.  Moreover,  he  knew  that 
v/hen,  left  to  himself,  he  thought  it  all  over,  new  ques 
tions  would  rise  that  could  not  be  answered,  and  new 
doubts  return.  Therefore  he  could  not  receive  now 
what  he  might  be  disposed  to  doubt  to-morrow. 
He  was  a  trifle  bewildered,  and  wanted  time  to 
think.  He  was  as  much  interested  in  Miss  Walton 
as  in  what  she  was  saying,  and  when  her  words 
proved  that  she  was  a  thoughtful  woman,  and  could 
be  the  intelligent  companion  of  any  man,  the  dis 
tracting  fear  grew  stronger  that  when  she  came  to 
know  him  well,  she  would  coldly  stand  aloof.  The 
very  thought  was  unendurable.  In  all  the  world, 
only  in  the  direction  of  Annie  Walton  seemed  there 
any  light  for  him.  So  to  gain  time  he  instinctively 
sought  to  give  a  less  serious  turn  to  the  conversa 
tion,  by  saying : 

"  Come,  Miss  Walton,  this  is  the  best  preaching 
I've  ever  heard.  It  seems  to  me  quite  unusual  to 
find  a  young  lady  so  interested  and  well  versed  in 
these  matters.  You  must  have  given  a  good  deal  of 
thought  and  reading  to  the  subject." 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN.  307 

Annie  looked  disappointed.  She  had  hoped  for 
a  better  result  from  her  earnest  words  than  a  com 
pliment  and  a  little  curiosity  as  to  herself.  But  she 
met  him  in  his  own  apparent  mood,  and  said : 

"  Now  see  how  easily  imposed  upon  your  skepti 
cal  people  are.  I  could  palm  myself  off,  like  Portia, 
as  a  Daniel  come  to  judgment,  and  by  a  little  dis 
creet  silence  gain  a  blue  halo  as  a  woman  of  deep 
research  and  profound  reading.  Just  the  contrary 
is  true.  I  am  not  a  very  great  reader  on  any  sub 
ject,  and  certainly  not  on  .theology  and  kindred 
topics.  The  fact  is  I  am  largely  indebted  to  my 
father.  He  is  interested  in  these  subjects  and  takes 
pains  to  explain  much  to  me  that  would  require 
study ;  and  since  mother  died  he  has  come  to  talk  to 
me  very  much  as  he  did  to  her.  But  it  seems  to  me 
all  that  I  have  said  is  very  simple  and  plain,  and  you 
surely  know  that  my  motive  was  not  to  air  the  little 
instruction  I  have  received." 

Gregory's  policy  forsook  him  as  he  saw  her  dis 
appointed  look ;  and  as  he  looked  at  her  flushed  and 
now  lovely  face  to  him,  acting  upon  a  sudden  impulse 
he  asked : 

"  Won't  you  please  tell  me  your  motive?" 

His  manner  and  tone  convinced  her  in  a  moment 
that  he  was  more  moved  and  interested  than  she 
thought,  and  answering  with  a  like  impulse  on  her 
part,  she  said  frankly : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  but  from 
the  first  day  of  your  visit  it  seemed  clear  to  me  that 
you  were  not  living  and  feeling  as  those  who  once 


JOS  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR, 

made  this  your  home  could  wish,  and  the  thought 
was  impressed  upon  me,  impressed  strongly,  that 
perhaps  God  had  sent  you  in  your  feeble  health  and 
sadness  (for  you  evidently  were  depressed  in  mind 
also),  to  this  place  of  old  and  holy  memories,  that  you 
might  learn  something  better  than  this  world's  phi 
losophy.  I  have  hoped  and  prayed  that  I  might  be 
able  to  help  you.  But  when  to-day,"  she  continued, 
turning  away  her  head  to  hide  the  rising  tears,  "  I 
showed  such  miserable  weakness,  I  felt  that  you 
would  never  listen  to  me  again  on  such  subjects,  and 
doubt  more  than  ever  their  reality,  and  it  made  me 
very  unhappy.  I  feel  very  grateful  that  you  have 
listened  to  me  so  patiently.  I  hope  you  won't,  let 
my  weakness  hurt  my  cause.  Now  you  see  what 
a  frank,  guileless  conspirator  I  am,"  she  added,  try 
ing  to  smile  at  him  through  her  tears. 

While  she  spoke  Gregory  bent  upon  her  a  look 
that  tried  to  search  her  soul.  But  the  suspicious  man 
of  the  world  could  not  doubt  her  perfect  sincerity. 
Her  looks  and  words  revealed  her  thought  as  a 
crystal  stream  a  white  pebble  over  which  it  flows. 
He  stepped  forward  and  took  her  hand  with  a  pres 
sure  that  caused  it  to  pain  for  hours  after,  but  he  only 
trusted  himself  to  say  : 

"  You  are  my  good  angel,  Miss  Walton.  Now 
I  understand  your  influence  over  me,"  and  then 
abruptly  left  the  room. 

^f  But  he  did  not  understand  her  influence.  A 
man  seldom  does  when  he  first  meets  the  woman 
whose  words,  glances,  and  presence  have  the  subtle 


NOT  A  HEROINE,  BUT  A    WOMAN. 


309 


power  to  fill  his  thoughts,  quicken  his  pulse,  stir  his 
soul,  and  awaken  his  whole  nature  into  new  life. 
He  usually  passes  through  a  luminous  haze  of  con 
geniality,  friendship,  Platonic  affinity,  or  even  bro 
therly  regard,  till  something  suddenly  clears  up  the 
mist  and  he  finds,  like  the  first  man,  lonely  in  Eden, 
that  there  is  but  one  woman  for  him  in  all  the 


Gregory  was  in  the  midst  of  the  cloud,  but  it 
seemed  very  bright  around  him  as  he  paced  his  room 
excitedly. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

GREGORY'S  FINAL  CONCLUSION  IN  REGARD  TO  Miss 
WALTON. 

A  NNIE  WALTON  was  now  no  longer  an  enigma 
to  Gregory.  He  had  changed  his  views  several 
times  in  regard,  to  her.  First,  she  was  a  common 
place,  useful  member  of  the  community,  in  a  small 
way,  and  part  of  the  furniture  of  a  well-ordered 
country  house — plain  furniture  too,  he  had  said  to 
himself.  But  one  evening  in  her  company  had  con 
vinced  him  that  such  a  Miss  Walton  was  a  fiction  of 
his  own  mind,  and  he  who  had  come  to  regard  soci 
ety  girls  as  they  average,  as  a  weariness  beyond 
endurance,  was  interested  in  her  immediately. 

Then  her  truth  and  unselfishness,  and  the  strong 
religious  element  in  her  character,  had  been  a  con 
stant  rebuke,  but  he  had  soothed  himself  with  the 
theory  that  she  differed  only  in  being  untempted. 
He  then  had  resolved  to  amuse  himself,  ease  his  con 
science,  and  feed  his  old  grudge  against  her  sex,  by 
teaching -the  little  saint  that  she  was  onjy  a  weak, 
vain  creature.  But  she  had  not  only  sustained  his 
temptations,  but  another  ordeal  so  searching  and  ter 
rible  that  it  transformed  her  into  a  heroine,  a  being 
of  different  and  superior  clay  from  ordinary  mortals. 


GREGORY'S  FINAL   CONCLUSION.  3II 

"It's  her  nature  to  be  good,  mine  to  be  bad," 
he  had  said  ;  "  I'm  a  weed,  she  a  flower/' 

But  Annie  herself  had  rudely  dispelled  this  illu 
sion. 

Now  he  saw  her  to  be  a  woman  who  might,  did 
she  yield  to  the  evil  within  her  and  without,  show 
all  the  vanity,  weakness,  and  folly  generally,  of 
which  he  had  at  first  believed  her  capable,  but  who, 
by  prayer  and  effort,  daily  achieved  victories  over 
herself.  In  addition,  she  had  manifested  the  most 
beautiful  and  God-like  trait  that  can  ennoble  human 
character — the  desire  to  save  and  sweeten  other 
lives.  To  have  been  lectured  and  talked  to  on  the 
subject  of  religion  in  any  conventional  way  by  one 
outside  of  his  sympathies  would  have  been  as  repul 
sive  as  useless,  but  Annie  had  the  tact  to  make  her 
effort  appear  like  angelic  ministry. 

But  there  is  that  about  every  truly  refined  woman 
with  a  large  loving  heart  which  is  irresistible.  The 
two  things  combined  give  a  winning  grace  that  is 
an  '  open  sesame  '  everywhere.  The  trouble  is  that 
culture  and  polish  are  too  often  the  sheen  of  an 
icicle. 

He  believed  he  saw  just  her  attitude  toward  him. 
It  reminded  him  of  Miss  Bently's  efforts  in  his  be 
half;  but  with  the  contrast  that  existed  between 
Miss  Bently  and  Annie.  He  now  wondered  that  he 
could  have  been  interested  in  such  a  vain,  shallow 
creature  as  Mrs.  Grobb  had  proved '  herself,  and 
excused  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  idealized  her 
into  something  that  she  was  not.  All  that  Annie 


312  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

said  and  did  had  the  solidity  of  truth,  and  not  the 
hollowness  of  affectation.  And  yet  there  was  one 
thing  that  troubled  him.  While  her  effort  to  help  him 
out  of  his  morbid,  unhappy  state  was  so  sincere,  she 
showed  no  special  personal  interest  in  himself,  such  as 
he  had  in  her.  If  he  should  now  go  away,  she  would 
place  him  merely  in  the  outer  circle  of  her  friends  or 
acquaintance,  and  make  good  the  old  saying,  "  out 
of  sight  out  of  mind."  But  already  the  conviction 
was  growing  strong  that  it  would  be  long  before  she 
would  be  out  of  his  mind.  Though  he  had  plenty 
of  pride,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was  not  conceited,  and 
from  long  familiarity  with  society,  could  readily 
detect  the  difference  between  the  regard  such  as 
she  would  feel  for  a  man  personally  attractive,  and 
the  interest  of  aroused  sympathies  which  she  might 
have  in  any  one,  and  such  as  her  faith  and  nature 
led  her  to  have  in  every,  one.  Of  course  he  was  not 
satisfied  with  the  latter,  and  it  was  becoming  one  of 
his  ,  dearest  hopes  to  awaken  a  personal  feeling, 
though  just  what  kind  he  had  not  yet  even  defined 
himself. 

When  the  tea-bell  rang,  much  later  than  usual  on 
account  of  the  chaos  of  the  day,  he  was  glad  to  go 
down.  Her  society  was  far  pleasanter  than  his  own 
and  future  events  might  make  everything  clearer. 

His  supposition  in  regard  to  Johnnie  was  correct. 
As  he  descended  the  stairs,  the  boy  came  out  of  the 
sitting-room,  holding  Annie  tightly  by  the  hand  and 
beaming  upon  her  like  the  sun  after  a  shower,  and 
when  he  found  by  his  plate  a  huge  apple  that  had 


GREGORY'S  FINAL   CONCLUSION. 


313 


been  roasted  specially  for  him,  his  cup  of  happiness 
was  full  as  the  great  pippin  would  make  him,  and  he 
was  ready  for  another  shaking.  If  the  apple  once 
caused  discord  it  here  confirmed  peace. 

The  supper  was  as  inviting  as  the  dinner  had 
been  forbidding,  indicating  a  change  of  policy  in  the 
kitchen  cabinet.  In  fact,  after  Zibbie  cooled  off,  she 
found  that  she  was  not  ready  for  "  the  world  to  come 
to  an  end  "  (or  its  equivalent,  her  leaving  the  Wai- 
tons  after  so  many  years  of  service  and  kindness). 
She  had  riot  yet  reached  thepoint  of  abject  apology 
though  she  knew  she  would  go  down  on  her  old 
rheumatic  knees,  rather  than  leave  her  ark  of  refuge 
and  go  out  into  the  turbulent  waters  of  the  world ; 
still  she  made  propitiating  overtures  in  the  brownest 
of  buttered  toast,  and  a  chicken  salad  that  might 
have  been  served  as  ambrosia  on  Mount  Olympus. 
Zibbie  was  a  guileless  strategist,  for  in  the  success 
of  the  supper  she  proved  how  great  had  been  her 
malign  ingenuity  and  deliberation  in  spoiling  the 
dinner.  She  could  never  claim  that  it.  was  acci 
dental.  Hannah  no  longer  waited  as  if  it  were  a 
funeral  occasion,  and  the  domestic  skies  were  fast 
brightening  up,  with  one  exception.  Mr.  Walton's 
chair  was  vacant,  and  Gregory  noticed  that  Annie 
often  looked  wistfully  and  sadly  toward  it. 

With  the  sensitiveness  of  one  who  habitually  hid 
his  deeper  feeling  from  the  world,  Gregory  tried  to 
act  as  if  his  last  conversation  with  Annie  had  been 
upon  the  weather ;  and  as  might  be  expected  of 
refined  people,  no  allusion  was  made  to  the  unpleas- 
14 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ant  features  of  the  day.  Neither  then  nor  after 
ward  was  a  word  adverse  to  the  Camdens  spoken. 
They  had  been  guests,  and  that  was  enough  for  the 
Waltons*  nice  sense  of  courtesy.  Only  Susie,  with  a 
little  sigh  of  relief,  gave  expression  to  the  general 
feeling  by  saying : 

"Somehow  I  feel  kind  of  light  to-night.  I  felt 
dreadfully  heavy  this  morning." 

Annie,  with  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  something 
like  a  tear  in  her  eye,  noticed  the  child's  remark  by 
adding: 

"  I  think  we  would  all  feel  light  if  Grandpa  were 
only  here." 

After  supper  she  sang  to  the  children  and  told 
them  a  bed-time  story,  and  then  sent  them  off  to 
their  dream-wanderings  with  a  kiss  of  peace. 

During  Annie's  absence  from  the  parlor,  Gregory 
returned  to  his  room.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  talk 
with  any  one  else.  Even  Miss  Eulie's  gentle  patter 
of  words  would  fall  with  a  sting  of  pain. 

When  Annie  came  down  to  the  parlor  she  said : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  will  sing  as  much  as  you 
wish,  to  make  up  for  last  evening.  Indeed,  I  must 
do  something  to  get  through  the  hours  till  father's 
return,  for  I  feel  so  anxious  and  self-reproachful 
about  him." 

"  And  so  make  happiness  for  others  out  of  your 
pain,"  said  he  ;  "  why  don't  you  complain  and  fret  all 
the  evening  and  make  it  uncomfortable  generally?". 

"  I  have  done  enough  of  that  for  one  day.  What 
will  you  have  ?  " 


GREGORY'S  FINAL   CONCLUSION.  315 

An  impulse  prompted  him  to  say  "  You,"  but  he 
only  said,  "Your  own  choice,"  and  walked  softly  up 
and  down  the  room  while  she  sang,  now  a  ballad, 
now  a  hymn,  and  again  a  simple  air  from  an  opera, 
but  nothing  light  or  gay. 

He  was  taking  a  dangerous  course  for  his  own 
peace.  As  we  have  seen,  Annie's  voice  was  not  one 
to  win  special  admiration.  It  was  not  brilliant  and 
highly  cultured,'  and  had  no  very  great  compass. 
She  could  not  produce  any  of  the  remarkable  effects 
of  the  trained  vocalist.  But  it  was  exceedingly 
sweet  in  the  low,  minor  notes.  It  was  sympathetic, 
and  so  colored  by  the  sentiment  of  the  words,  that 
she  made  a  beautiful  language  of  song.  It  was  a 
voice  that  stole  into  the  heart  and  kept  vibrating 
there  long  hours  after,  like  an  seolian  harp  just 
breathed  upon  by  a  dying  zephyr. 

As  was  often  the  case,  she  forgot  her  auditor,  and 
began  to  reveal  herself  in  this  mode  of  expression  so 
natural  to  her,  and  to  sing  as  she  did  long  evenings 
when  alone.  At  times  her  tones  would  be  tremu 
lous  with  pathos  and  feeling,  and  again  strong  and 
hopeful.  Then,  as  if  remembering  the  great  joy  that 
soon  would  be  hers  in  welcoming  back  her  absent 
lover,  it  grew  as  tender  and  alluring  as  a  thrush's 
call  to  its  mate. 


O'er  the  land  and  o'er  the  sea 
Swiftly  fly  my  thoughts  to  thee  ; 
Haste  thee  and  come  back  to  me  : 

I'm  waiting. 


316  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Thou  away,  how  sad  my  song  ! 
When  alone,  the  days  are  long ; 
Soon  thou'lt  know  how  glad  and  strong 

My  welcome. 

Haste  thee,  then,  o'er  sea  and  land  ; 
Quickly  join  our  loving  band, 
Waiting  here  to  clasp  thy  hand 

In  greeting. 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Walton,"  said  Gregory,  leaning 
upon  the  piano,  "  that  would  bring  me  from  the 
antipodes." 

She  did  not  like  his  tone  and  manner,  and  also 
became  conscious  that  in  her  choice  of  a  ballad  she 
was  expressing  thoughts  that  were  not  for  him ;  so 
she  tried  to  turn  the  matter  lightly  off  by  saying : 

"Where  you  probably  were  in  your  thoughts. 
What  have  you  been  thinking  about  all  this  long 
time  while  I  have  fallen  into  the  old  habit  of  talk 
ing  to  myself  over  the  piano?" 

"  You,  I  might  say ;  but  I  should  add  in  truth, 
what  you  have  said  to  me  this  evening." 

"  I  hope  only  the  latter." 

"  Chiefly  f*ve  been  enjoying  your  singing.  You 
have  a  very  peculiar  voice.  You  don't  *  execute  '  01 
*  render '  anything,  any  more  than  a  bird  does.  I 
believe  they  have  been  your  music  teachers." 

"Crows  abound  in  our  woods,"  she  answered 
laughing. 

"  So  do  robbins  and  thrushes." 

Her  face  suddenly  had  an  absent  look  as  if  she 
did  not  hear  him.  It  was  turned  from  the  light,  or 


GREGORY'S  FINAL   CONCLUSION.  317 

the  rich  color  that  was  mantling  it  would  have  puz 
zled  him,  and  might  have  inspired  hope.  With  some 
abruptness  and  yet  hesitation,  such  as  is  often  noted 
when  a  delicate  subject  is  broached,  she  said : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  wish  I  could  make  peace  be 
tween  you  and  Mr.  Hunting.  I  think  you  are  not 
friendly." 

The  light  shone  on  his  face  as  she  looked  to  see 
the  effect  of  her  remark,  and  she  was  again  deeply 
pained  to  see  how  instantly  it  darkened.  For  a 
moment  he  did  not  reply;  then  in  a  cold,  con 
strained  voice  said  : 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  the  family  I  suppose.* 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  eagerly. 

"  I  too  would  like  to  be  regarded  as  a  friend,  and 
especially  by  you ;  so  I  ask  it  as  a  great  personal 
favor  that  you  will  not  mention  that  gentleman's 
name  again  during  the  brief  remnant  €>f  my  visit." 

"Do  you  mean  any  imputation  against  him?" 
she  asked  hotly. 

Policy  whispered,  "  Don't  offend  her.  Hunting 
may  be  a  near  relation,"  so  he  said  quietly  : 

"  Gentlemen  may  have  difficulties  -  concerning 
which  they  do  not  like  to  speak.  I  have  made  no 
imputation  against  him  whatever,  but  I  entreat  you 
to  grant  my  request." 

Annie  was  not  satisfied,  but  sat  still  with  knit 
brows.  At  that  moment  she  heard  her  father's  step 
and  ran  joyfully  to  meet  him.  He  had  come  home 
chilled  from  a  long  ride  in  the  raw  wind,  and  she 
spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  remorseful  minis- 


OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

trations  to  his  comfort.  As  she  flitted  around  him, 
served  his  tea  and  toast,  and  petted  him  generally, 
Gregory  felt  that  he  would  ride  for  a  night  after  the 
'  Wild  Huntsman  "  to  be  so  treated. 

He  also  rightly  felt  that  Annie's  manner  was  a 
little  cool  toward  him.  It  was  not  in  her  frank,  pas 
sionate  nature  to  feel  and  act  the  same  toward  one 
who  had  just  expressed  such  bitter  hostility  toward 
her  lover.  But  the  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more 
determined  he  was  that  there  should  be  no  aliena 
tion  between  them  on  account  of  Hunting. 

"  Curse  him  !  "  he  muttered,  "  he  has  cost  me  too 
much  already." 

He  had  the  impression  that  Hunting  was  a  rela 
tive  of  the  family.  That  he  was  the  accepted  lover 
of  the  pure  and  true  girl  that  he  himself  was  un 
consciously  learning  to  love,  was  too  monstrous  a 
thought  to  be,entertained.  Still  Annie's  words  and 
manner  caused  him  some  sharp  pangs  of  jealousy,  till 
he  cast  the  very  idea  away  in  scorn  as  unworthy  of 
both  himself  and  her. 

"  Evil  as  my  life  has  been,  it  is  white  compared 
with  his,''  he  said  to  himself. 

In  accordance  with  his  purpose  to  keep  the  van 
tage  ground  already  gained  with  Annie,  he  was 
geniality  itself,  and  so  entertained  Miss  Eulie  and 
her  father  that  she  soon  relented  and  smiled  upon 
him  as  kindly  as  ever.  She  was  in  too  humble  .and 
softened  a  mood  that  evening  to  be  resentfu4  ex 
cept  under  great  provocation,  and  she  was  really 
very  grateful  to  Gregory  for  his  readiness  to  over- 


GREGORY'S  FINAL    CONCLUSION. 

look  her  weakness  and  give  her  credit  for  trying  to 
do  right.  Indeed,  his  sincere  admiration  and  out 
spoken  desire  for  her  esteem  inclined  her  toward  him, 
for  was  she  not  a  woman  ? 

"After  all,"  she  thought,  "he  has  said  nothing 
against  Hunting.  They  have  had  a  quarrel,  and  he 
no  doubt  is  the  one  to  blame.  He  is  naturally  very 
proud  and  resentful,  and  would  be  all  the^nore  so  in 
that  degree  that  he  was  wrong  himself.  If  I  can 
help  him  become  a  good  Christian,  making  peace 
will  be  an  easy  affair;  so  I  will  not  lose  the  hold  that 
I  have  gamed  upon  him.  When  Charles  comes  he 
will  tell  me  all  about  it,  and  I  will  make  him  treat 
Gregory  in  such  a  way  that  enmity  cannot  last." 

How  omnipotent  girls  imagine  themselves  to  be 
with  those  who  swear  they  will  do  anything  under 
heaven  to  please  them,  but  usually  go  on  in  the  old 
ways. 

It  was  late  before  the  family  separated  for  the 
night,  but  later  far  before  Gregory  retired.  The 
conclusion  of  his  long  reVery  was  that  in  Annie  Wal 
ton  existed  his  only  chance  of  life  and  happiness. 
She  seemed  to  possess  the  power  to  wake  up  all  the 
man  left  in  him,  and  if  there  were  any  help  in  God, 
she  only  could  show  him  .how  to  find  it. 

Thus  his  worldly  wisdom  taught  him,  as  many 
others,  to  lean  on-  a  human  arm  for  his  main  sup 
port  and  chief  hope,  while  possibly  in  the  uncertain 
future  some  help  from  Heaven  might  be  obtained. 
He  was  like  a  sickly  plant  in  the  shade  saying  to  it 
self,  "  Yonder  ray  of  sunlight  would  give  me  new 


320 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURP. 


life,"  but  it  had  no  thought  of  the  sun  from  whence 
the  ray  came.  He  truly  wished  to  become  a  good 
man  for  his  own  sake  as  well  as  Annie's,  for  he  had 
sufficient  experience  in  the  ills  of  evil ;  but  he  did 
not  know  that  a  loving  God  does  not  make  our  only 
chance  dependent  on  the  uncertain  action  and  im 
perfect  wisdom  of  even  the  best  of  earthly  friends. 
The  One  who  began  His  effort  of  saving  man  by  dy 
ing  for  him  will  not  afterward  neglect  the  work,  nor 
commit  it  wholly  to  weak  human  hands. 

The  next  morning,  being  that  of  Saturday, 
brought  Annie  many  duties,  and  these,  with  callers, 
so  occupied  her  time  that  Gregory  saw  but  little  of 
her.  The  shadow  between  them  seemed  to  have 
passed  away,  and  she  treated  him  with  the  utmost 
kindness.  But  there  was  a  new  shadow  on  her  face 
that  he  could  not  understand,  and  after  breakfast  he 
said  to  her  as  they  were  passing  to  the  parlor : 

"  Miss  Walton,  you  seem  out  of  spirits.  I  hope 
nothing  pai-nful  has  happened." 

"  Jeff  found  my  lost  letter  this  morning/'  she 
said,  "  and  I  have  been  deservedly  punished  anew, 
for  it  brought  me  unpleasant  tidings,"  and  she  hastily 
left  the  room,  as  if  not  wishing  to  speak  further  on 
the- matter. 

It  had  indeed  inflicted  a  heavy  disappointment, 
for  it  was  from  Hunting,  stating  that  business  would 
detain  him  some  days  longer  in  Europe.  But  she 
had  accepted  it  in  meekness,  and  felt  that  it  was  but 
a  light  penalty  for  all  her  folly  of  the  preceding  two 
days. 


GREGORY'S  FINAL   CONCLUSION. 


321- 


Gregory  was  not  a  little  curious  about  it,  for  he 
was  interested  now  in  everything  connected  with 
her;  but  as  she  did  not  speak  of  it  again,  good  taste 
required  that  he  should  not.  An  uncomfortable 
thought  of  Hunting  being  the  possible  writer  crossed 
his  mind,  but  he  drove  it  from  him  with  something 
like  rage. 

As  Gregory  sat  brooding  by  his  fire,  waiting  till 
the  sun  grew  higher  before  starting  for  a  walk,  Jeff 
came  up  with  an  armful  of  wood,  and  seemed  bub 
bling  over  with  something.  He,  too,  had  suffered 
sorely  in  the  storm  he  had  helped  to  raise  the  pre 
ceding  day,  and  had  tremblingly  eaten  such  dinner 
as  the  irate  Zibbie  had  tossed  on  the  table  for  him, 
as  a  man.  might  lunch  under  the  concentrated  fire 
of  a  fort.  He  seemed  to  relieve  himself  by  saying, 
with  his  characteristic  grin,  as  he  replenished  the 
fire: 

"  It  was  drefful  'pestuous  yesterday,  but  de  winds 
is  gone  down.  I'se  glad  dat  ole  hen  is  done  for,  but 
she  hatch  a  heap  ob  trouble  on  her  las'  day." 

Jeff  belonged  to  that  large  school  of  modern 
philosophers  who  explain  the  evils  of  the  day  on 
very  superficial  grounds.  The  human  heart  is  all 
right.  L It's  only  "dat  ole  hen,"  or  unfavorable  cir 
cumstances  of  some  kind,  that  do  the  mischief. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"THE  WORM-INFESTED  CHESTNUT." — GREGORY  TELLS 
THE  WORST. 

T  N  his  solitary  ramble,  Gregory  again  thought  long 
and  deeply  over  the  situation.  The  impression 
was  growing  strong  that  the  supreme  hour  of  his  life, 
which  would  decide  his  destfny  for  good  or  evil,  was 
fast  approaching.  For  years  previously  he  had' given 
up  the  struggle  against  the  latter,  and  had  sunk 
deep  in  moral  apathy,  making  greater  effort  to  doubt 
everything  concerning  God  than  to  believe.  Then 
he  had  even  lost  his  earthly  ambition,  and  became 
mere  driftwood  on  the  tide  of  time.  But  a  sweet, 
true  maiden,  all  vital  with  life  and  faith,  was  do 
ing  a  work  for  him  like  Elsie  for  Prince  Henry  in 
the  Golden  Legend.  A  consciousness  of  power  to 
again  take  up  his  burdens  and  be  a  man  among  men 
was  coming  back,  and  old  Daddy  Tuggar's  words 
•  were  growing  into  a  hope-inspiring  prophecy :  "  She 
could  take  the  wickedest  man  livin'  to  heaven,  if 
she'd  stay  right  by  him." 

And  yet  his  self-distrust  was  painfully  and  dan- 
gerously  great,  and  the  fear  that  when  Annie  came  to 
know  the  worst  about  him,  and  how  he  had  plotted 
against  her,  she  would  shrink  from  him,  and  by  man 
ner  if  not  words  tell  him  that  he  hatf  "  sinned  away 


GREGORY   TELLS   THE    WORST.  323 

his  day  of  grace."  He  was  certain  that  he  could 
not  win  even  an  intimate  congenial  acquaintance, 
much  less  a  more  tender  regard,  unless  he  became 
a  true,  good  man,  worthy  of  her  confidence.  He 
could  not  become  such  by  commencing  in  decep 
tion—by  hiding  the  past,  and  trying  to  appear  what 
he  was  not.  For  in  the  first  place  she  would  cer 
tainly  find  him  out  and  despise  him,  and  in  the 
second  his  own  nature  now  revolted  at  anything 
false  in  his  relations  with  her.  After  long,  anxious 
thought,  he  concluded  that  the  only  safe,  as  well 
as  the  only  honorable  course,  was  perfect  frank 
ness.  If  he  began  wrong,  the  end  would  be  disas 
trous.  He  was  no  longer  subject  to  school-boy  im 
pulses,  but  was  a  mature  and  thoughtful  man,  and 
had  trained  himself  in  business  to  look  far  and  keenly 
into  the  consequences  of  present  action.  He  saw  in 
this  Walton  blood  an  intense  antipathy  to  deceit. 
His  own  nature  was  averse  to  it  also.  His  experi 
ence  with  Hunting  had  made  it  doubly  hateful.  His 
pride  revolted  at  it,  for  his  lack  of  hypocrisy  had 
been  the  one  ground  of  self-respect  that  remained  in 
him.  If  in  his  folly  and  wickedness  he  had  blotted 
out  the  possibility  of  a  happy  future,  he  must  endure 
the  terrible  truth  as  he  could.  To  try  to  steal  into 
heaven,  earthly  or  celestial,  by  the  back  door  of  spe 
cious  seeming,  only  to  be  discovered  in  his  true  char 
acter  and  cast  out  with  greater  ignominy,  was  a  course 
as  revolting  as  foolish.  Annie  knew  him  to  be  a 
man  of  the  world  with  skeptical  tendencies,  but  to 
her  guileless  nature  and  inexperience  of  tfye  world 


324  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

this  might  not  mean  anything  very  bad.  But  in  the 
secret  of  his  own  soul  he  had  to  meet  these  terrible 
questions: 

"  Can  God  receive  and  pardon  a  willing  unbe 
liever,  a  man  who  has  sinned  against  the  clearest 
light,  a  gambler,  a  libertine,  an  embodiment  of  self 
ishness  ?  Can  it  be  that  Annie  Walton  will  ever 
receive  even  friendship  from  one  so  stained,  knowing 
the  additional  fact  that  I  plotted  against  her  and 
sought  for  my  own  senseless  gratification  to  prove  that 
she  was  a  weak,  vain  woman,  who  would  be  no  better 
than  myself  if  tempted  in  like  manner?  It  is  true 
that  I  never  betrayed  innocence  or  wronged  a  man 
out  of  a  dollar.  It's  true  that  in  the  code  of  the 
world  I  have  done  nothing  to  lose  my  character  as  a 
gentleman,  and  even  my  design  upon  Miss  Walton 
would  pass  as  a  harmless  flirtation  in  society ;  but  the 
code  of  the  world  has  no  force  in  her  pure  mind,  and 
the  license  it  permits  is  an  insult  to  the  law  of  God. 
And  now  it  is  not  with  the  world,  but  with  her  and 
heaven  that  I  am  to  deal.  Things  at  which  society 
shrugs  its  shoulder  indifferently  are  to  them  crimes, 
and  black  ones  too.  I  might  as  well  seek  her  love 
with  a  felon's  indictment  hanging  over  me  as  to  seek 
it  hiding  my  past  life.  When  she  came  to  find  me 
out  she  would  feel  that  I  had  wronged  her  unuttera 
bly,  and  confidence,  the  only  basis  of  lasting  esteem, 
would  be  gone. 

"  Deep  .in  my  heart  I  have  never  doubted  my 
mother'^  faith.  When  I  imagined  I  did  I  was  self- 
deceived.  Everything  here  confirms  it,  and  Annre 


GREGORY  TELLS   THE    WORST.  325 

more  than  all.  I  will  consult  the  divine  oracle. 
She  shall  be  the  fair  vestal,  the  gentle  priestess. 
She  lives  near  to  heaven,  and  knows  its  mind.  If 
her  kind  and  womanly  nature  shrinks  from  me,  if 
she  coldly  draws  her  skirts  aside  that  I  pollute  them 
not  even  with  touch — if  she  by  word  or  even  man 
ner  proves  that  she  sees  an  impassable  gulf  between 
us,  then  she  need  waste  no  breath  in  homilies  over 
repentance  and  that  God  can  receive  those  whom 
man  cannot.  I'll  not  even  listen,  but  go  back  to  the 
city  and  meet  my  fate.  If  imperfect  human  creatures 
cannot  forgive  each  other — if  I  have  gone  so  far  be 
yond  the  mercy  of  a  tender-hearted  woman,  then  I 
need  look  for  nothing  from  a  just  and  holy  God.  It's 
mockery  for'  good  people,  with  horror  and  disgust 
slightly  vailed  upon  their  faces,  to  tell  poor  wretches 
that  God  will  receive  them  and  love  them,  while 
they  would  no  more  take  them  into  their  confidence 
and  esteem  than  they  would  a  pestilence.  It's  like 
people  saying  to  one  in  the  last  stage  of  consump 
tion,  '  I  hope  you  will  be  better  soon.'  They  don't 
hope  nor  expect  any  such  thing.  The  Bible,  I  be 
lieve,  teaches  that  a  man  can  sin  away  his  day  of 
grace.  I  had  about  believed  that  I  had  sinned  away 
mine.  .  This  genuine,  honest  Christian  girl  has  made 
me  think  differently.  She  has  inspired  the  strong 
hope  that  she  could  lead  me  to  become  a  good  man 
— even  a  Christian.  She  shall  either  fulfil  that  hope 
or  show  it  to  be  false." 

Such  was  the  outline  of  his  thoughts  that  long 
day,  during  which  hope  and  fear  balanced  an  even 


326  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

scale.  But  the  evening  shadows  found  fear  predomi 
nating.  His  awakened  conscience  and  his  recent 
contact  with  true  moral  standards  revealed  him  to 
himself  in  darker  and  still  darker  shadow.  At  times 
he  was  almost  ready  to  despair,  and  on  Monday  bid 
his  entertainers  a  courteous  farewell,  and  go  back  to 
the  city  as  he  came,  with  the  additional  wretched 
ness  of  having  seen  the  heaven  he  could  not  enter. 

But  when  he  came  down  to  supper,  Annie  smiled 
so  sweetly  and  looked  so  gentle  and  kind,  that  he 
thought : 

"  She  does  not  seem  one  to  push  a  wretch  over 
the  brink  of  a  precipice.  That  warm  little  hand  that 
charmed  away  my  headache  so  gently,  cannot  write 
Dante's  inscription  over  my  '  Inferno/  bid  me  enter 
it  as  '  my  own  place ;  '  and  yet  I  dread  her  sense  of 
justice." 

In  his  anxiety  and  perturbation  of  mind  he  was 
unusually  grave  and  silent  during  the  meal  and  even 
ing.  Annie  exulted  secretly  over  him. 

"  He  is  thinking  in  earnest  now.  His  old  apathy 
and  trifling  manner  are  gone." 

He  was  indeed  thinking  in  terrible  earnest.  Her 
effort  had  awakened  no  school-girl  interest  and  peni 
tence  that  she  could  soothe  and  reward  by  quoting 
a  few  sweet  promises,  but  had  aroused  a  spirit  like 
that  which  came  down  from  the  hills  of  Gadara,  whom 
no  man  could  bind.  A  strong  but  evil-mastered  man 
was  coming  to  her  as  that  poor  wretch  came  to  Jesus, 
terrible,  revolting,  helpless,  yet  in  such  pitiable  need 
of  Him. 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE    WORST  327 

Men  and  women  in  good  society  may  be  very 
polished  and  refined,  and  yet  their  souls  in  God's 
sight  and  their  own  be  shameful,  "  naked,"  wearing 
no  robe  of  righteousness,  bound  by  no  laws  of  purity 
and  right,  and  "  always,  night  and  day,  crying  and 
cutting  "  themselves  in  the  unrest  of  remorse.  Sad 
and  yet  true  it  was  that  the  demon-possessed  man, 
the  terror  of  Gadarenes,  was  but  too  true  a  type  of 
the  gentlemanly  and  elegant  Walter  Gregory,  as  he 
sat  that  night  in  a  torment  of  dread  and  hope  at 
the  peaceful  fireside  of  a  Christian  family.  If  his 
fears  were  realized — if  Annie  turned  from  him  when 
he  revealed  his  true  self  to  her,  there  seemed  to  him 
every  probability  that  evil  evermore  would  be  his 
master.  While  she  was  innocently  hoping  and  pray 
ing  that  her  words  and  influence  might  lead  him  to 
read  his  Bible,  go  to  church,  and  eventually  find  his 
way  into  the  "  green  pastures  beside  the  still  waters," 
it'would  seem  that  within  a  few  hours  she  would 
either  avert  ©r  complete  that  most  awful  of  trage 
dies — the  loss  of  a  soul. 

He  accompanied  them  to  church  the  following 
morning,  and  his  manner  was  grave  even  to  solem 
nity.  Little  wonder.  In  a  certain  sense,  in  view 
of  his  resolution,  the  Judgment  Day  had  come  to 
him. 

With  heavy,  contracted  brows  he  listened  to  a 
sermon  anything  but  reassuring.  The  good  old  min 
ister  inclined  to  a  legal  and  doctrinal  gospel,  and 
to-day  his  subject  was  the  perfection  and  searching 
character  of  the  Divine  law.  He  showed  how  God 


328  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

could  make  no  terms  with  sin — that  he  hated  it  \vith 
terrible  and  vindictive  hatred,  because  in  all  respects 
it  was  opposite  and  antagonistic  to  his  nature-^-be- 
cause  it  defiled,  degraded,  and  destroyed.  He  traced 
all  human  wretchedness  to  this  poisonous  root,  and 
Gregory  trembled  and  his  face  grew  dark  with  de 
spair  as  he  realized  how  it  was  inwoven  with  eveiy 
fibre  of  his  heart.  Then  in  simple  but  strong  lan 
guage  the  silver-haired  old  man,  who  seemed  a  type 
of  the  ancient  prophets,  portrayed  .the  great  white 
throne  of  God's  justice,  snowy,  too  dazzling  for 
human  eyes,  and  the  conscience-stricken  man  shrank 
and  cowered  with  the  instinctive  wish  to  hide  which 
the  guilty  millions  of  the  world  will  feel  on  the  final 
day  of  history. 

"  He  turned  to  Annie  to  see  how  this  train  of 
thought,  so  terrific  to  him,  affected  her.  Not  a  trace 
of  fear  was  upon  her  face,  but  only  serene,  reverent 
awe.  He  glanced  at  Mr.  Walton,  but  the  old  magis 
trate  sat  in  his  place,  calm  and  dignified,  evidently  ap 
proving  the  action  of  the  greater  Judge.  Miss  Eulie's 
face,  as  seen  between  himself  and  the  light  of  the  win 
dow,  appeared  so  spirit-like  and  rapt,  that  for  a  mo 
ment  it  seemed  as  if  she  might  take  wings  and  join 
the  angelic  throng,  around  the  throne. 

"  Thus  they  will  look  on  the  Judgment  Day," 
thought  Gregory,  "  while  I  tremble  even  at  its  pic 
ture.  Oh,  the  vital  difference  between  guilt  and 
innocence,  between  faith  and  unbelief!  " 

If  the  venerable  clergyman  had  been  talking  per 
sonally  to  Gregory  or  any  sinful  creature,  he  would 


GREGORY   TE-LLS    THE    WORST. 


329 


not  have  concluded  his  subject  where  he  did.  He 
would  have  shown  how  between  the  throne  of  justice 
and  the  sinner  there  stood  an  Advocate,  an  Inter 
cessor,  a  Saviour.  But  having  logically  developed 
his  text,  he  finished  his  discourse.  Perhaps  on 
the  following  Sabbath  he  might  present  the  mercy 
of  God  with  equal  clearness.  But  the  sermon  of  the 
day,  standing  alone  and  confirming  the  threatenings 
of  an  accusing  conscience,  depressed  Gregory  greatly. 
It  did  not  anger  him,  as  such  truth  usually  did.  He 
was  too  weak  and  despairing.  He. now  felt  the  hope 
lessness  and  folly  of  opposition.  The  idea  of  getting 
into  a  passion  with  fate  !  Only  weak  natures  fume 
at  the  inevitable.  There  is  a  certain  dignity  in  silent, 
passive  despair. 

The  impression  grew  almost  to  certainty  in  his 
mind  that  sin  and  the  sinner  were  one,  and  that  he 
would  dwell  forevermore  under  the  blighting  frown 
of  God. 

Annie's  voice  singing  the  closing  hymn  beside 
him  sounded  like  an  angel's  voice  across  the  "  great 
gulf."  Almost  mechanically  he  walked  down  the 
aisle  out  into  the  sunny  noon  of  a  warm  October 
day.  Birds  were  twittering  around  the  porch.  Fall 
insects  filled  the  air  with  their  cheery  chirpings. 
The  bay  of  a  dog,  the  shrill  crowing  of  a  cock,  came 
softened  across  the  fields  from  a  neighboring  farm. 
Cow-bells  tinkled  faintly  in  the  distance,  and  two 
children  were  seen  romping  on  a  hitlside,  flitting  here 
and  there  like  butterflies.  The  trees  were  in  gala 
dress  of  crimson  and  gold,  and  even  the  mountains 


330 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


vailed  their  stern  grandeur  in  a  purple  haze,  through 
which  the  sun's  rays  shimmered  with  genial  but  not 
oppressive  warmth. 

The  people  lingered  around  the  door,  shaking 
hands  and  greeting  each  other  with  the  plain  but 
cordial  courtesy  of  the  country.  Gregory  heard  one 
russet-apple-faced  man  say  that  "  Betsy  was  better," 
and  an  old  colored  woman,  with  a -visage  like  that 
apple  in  black  and  mottled  decay,  said  in  cheerful 
tones  that  "  little  Sampson  was  gittin  right  peart." 
A  great  raw-boned  farmer  asked  a  half-grown  boy, 
"  How's  yer  mare  ?  "  (he  did  not  mean  his  ma)  ;  and 
the  boy  replied  that  the  sick  animal  was  better  also. 
All  seemed  better  that  bright  day,  and  from  a  group 
near  came  the  expression,  "  Crops  were  good  this 
year."  While  the  wealthier  and  more  cultured 
members  of  the  congregation  had  kindly  nods  and 
smiles  for  all,  they  naturally  drew  together,  and  there 
seemed  a  little  flutter  of  excitement  over  the  re 
newal  of  the  sewing  society  that  had  been  discon 
tinued  during  the  summer. 

Gregory  stood  apart  from  all  this,  with  the  heavy 
contraction  still  upon  his  brow,  and  asked  himself: 

"  What  have  these  simple,  cheery,  commonplace 
people,  with  their  petty  earth-born  cares  and  in 
terests,  to  do  with  that  '  great  white  throne  '  of 
which  we  have  just  heard  ;  and  where,  in  this  soft, 
dreamy  landscape,  so  suggestive  of  peace,  rest,  and 
every-day  life,  lurks  any  hint  of  the/  wrath  of  a  just 
and  holy  God  '  ?  " 

And  then  the  old  Pastor,  who  a  little  before  had 


GREGORY   TELLS   THE    WORST.  33 j 

seemed  an  antitype  of  John,  the  stern  reformer  from 
the  wilderness,  came  out  smiling  and  benignant, 
greeting  his  flock  as  a  father  might  his  children. 
The  very  hand  that  was  raised  in  denunciation  and 
in  threatening  a  doom  that  would  appal  the  heart 
of  courage  itself,  was  given  to  Gregory  in  warm  and 
cordial  grasp.  The  man  he  had  trembled  before, 
now  seemed  the  embodiment  of  sweet-tempered 
human  kindness.  The  contrast  was  so  sharp  that  it 
seemed  to  Gregory  that  either  what  he  saw  or  what 
he  heard  must  be  an  utter  illusion. 

As  they  were  driving  home,  he  suddenly  broke 
his  moody  silence  by  asking  Miss  Walton : 

"  How  do  you  reconcile  the  scene  at  the  church 
door,  so  matter-of-fact,  cheery,  and  earthly,  with 
the  terrible  pictures  suggested  by  the  sermon  ?  If 
such  things  are  before  us,  it  seems  to  me  that  bright 
sunny  days  like  these  are  mockery." 

Annie  looked  at  him  wistfully.  The  sermon  had 
not  been  what  she  would  have  wished,  but  she 
hoped  it  would  do  him  good  by  cutting  away  every 
hope  based  on  anything  in  himself  or  in  vague 
general  ideas  of  God's  indiscriminate  mercy.  She 
answered  gently : 

"  The  contrast  was  indeed  great,  now  I  think  of 
it,  and  yet  each  scene  was  '  matter-of-fact '  to  me  in 
the  sense  of  being  real.  Besides,  that  one  which  our 
Pastor  described  was  a  court  of  justice.  I  will  have 
an  Advocate  there  who  will  clear  me.  As  for  '  bright 
days/  I  believe  they  are  just  what  God  means  his 
people  to  have  always." 


332 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


11  Yes,"  said  he  gloomily,  "  that  is  your  side  of 
the  question." 

"  It  may  be  yours  also/'  she  replied  in  a  low 
tone. 

He  shook  his  head,  and  looked  away  to  hide  his 
pain. 

After  a  short  time  he  again  said,  "  Do  you  not 
think  that  the  view  of  God  which  your  minister  gave 
is  very  depressing  to  the  average  man.  Is  not  his 
law  too  perfect  for  imperfect  humanity?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  answered  eagerly ;  but  before 
she  could  say  more,  Mr.  Walton,  unaware  of  the  sub 
ject  occupying  them,  turned  from  the  front  seat  and 
introduced  another  topic. 

After  dinner,  Gregory  went  to  his  room,  which  he 
restlessly  paced. 

"  Even  her  creed — her  faith,  as  well  as  her  purity 
and  truth,  raises  a  wall  high  as  heaven  between  us," 
he  exclaimed  bitterly.  "  How  can  such  as  I  ap 
proach  her  just  and  holy  God  ?  Even  Christ  said 
to  some  men,  *  Woe  unto  you,'  and  spoke  of  their 
*  greater  damnation.'  She  has  only  to  see  me  as  God 
sees  to  shrink  away  appalled,  disgusted.  Well,  she 
shall,"  he  muttered,  grinding  his  teeth ;  "  I  shall  not 
add  the  worst  torment  of  all  to  my  perdition  by 
deceiving  her." 

As  he  came  down  stairs,  Annie  had  just  finished 
reading  to  the  children,  and  he  said : 

"  Miss  Walton,  will  your  ideas  of  Sabbath-keeping 
prevent  you  from  taking  a  stroll  in  the  garden  with 
me?" 


GREGORY  TELLS   THE    WORST.  333 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  replied  smiling.  "  A  garden  is 
a  good  place  to  keep  Sunday  in." 

He  walked  silently  at  her  side  across  the  lawn 
down  a  shady  walk.  Annie  hoped  much  from  this 
interview,  and  sent  a  swift  earnest  prayer  to  heaven 
that  she  might  speak  wisely.  She  saw  that  he  was 
much  depressed,  and  judged  correctly  that  it  was 
because  he  had  only  seen  one  side  of  a  great  truth. 
She  hoped  to  cheer  and  inspire  him  with  the  other 
side.  Moreover,  her  religion  was  very  simple. ^Jt 
was  only  becoming  God's  friend,  instead  of  remain 
ing  indifferent  or  hostile.  She  feared,  that  his  dejec 
tion  might  pass  into  discouragement  and  despair. 
She  did  not  hold,  as  many  seem  to,  with  the  old  col 
ored  exhorter,  that  the  right  method  was  to  "  fust 
make  'em  feel  drefful  bad,  and  next  make  'em  feel 
drefful  good,  and  you've  got  'em."  To  her,  no  matter 
what  the  burden,  it  was  simply  leading  the  heavy 
laden  to  the  strong  Divine  Friend  as  people  were 
brought  to  him  of  old,  and  establishing  the  personal 
relations  of  love,  faith,  and  following. 

But  she  did  not  realize  the  desperate  nature  nor 
complications  of  Gregory's  moral  infirmity.  Still 
she  was  a  safe  adviser,  for  she  did  not  purpose  to 
cure  him  herself,  nor  recommend  any  human  nos 
trums.  But  she  wished  to  rally  and  ch^er  him,  to 
inspire  hope,  and  turn  his  eyes  from  sin  to  the  Sa 
viour,  so  she  said  : 

11  Mr.  Gregory,  why  do  you  look  as  if  marching 
to  execution  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  because  I  feel  as  if  I  were,"  he  said. 


334  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURP. 

Just  then  a  variegated  leaf  parted  from  a  spray 
overhanging  the  path  somewhat  in  advance  of  them, 
and  fluttered  to  their  feet. 

"  Poor  little  leaf,"  said  Gregory,  picking  it  up, 
"  your  bright  colors  will  soon  be  lost.  Death  has 
come  to  you  too.  Why  must  this  wretched  thought 
of  death  be  thrust  on  one  at  every  turn.  Nature  is 
full  of  it.  Things  only  live,  seemingly,  for  the  sake 
of  dying.  Just  as  this  leaf  becomes  most  beautiful 
it  diops.  What  a  miserable  world  this  is,  with  death 
making  havoc  everywhere.  Then  your  theology 
exaggerates  the  evil  a  thousand-fold.  If  a  man 
must  die,  let  him  die  and  cease  to  be.  But  your 
minister  spoke  to-day  of  a  living  death,  in  which  one 
only  exists  to  suffer.  What  a  misfortune  to  have 
existed ! " 

As  Gregory  gloomily  uttered  these  bitter  words, 
they  stood  looking  at  the  leaf  that  had  suggested 
them.  Annie's  face  brightened  with  a  sudden 
thought.  She  turned,  and  after  a  few  rapid  steps, 
sprang  lightly  up  and  caught  the  twig  from  which 
the  leaf  had  fallen.  Then,  turning  to  her  companion, 
who  regarded  with  surprise  and  admiration  the  agile 
grace  of  the  act,  she  said  : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  need  lessons  in  preaching. 
If  the  leaf  you  hold  is  your  text,  as  you  gave  me 
reason  to  believe,  you  don't  stick  to  it,  and  you 
draw  from  it  conclusions  that  don't  follow  the  pre 
mise.  Another  thing,  it  is  not  right  to  develop  a 
text  without  regard  to  its  connection.  Now  from 
just  this  place,"  she  continued,  pointing  with  her 


GREGORY  TELLS   THE    WORST.  335 

finger,  "the  leaf  dropped.  What  do  you  see? 
What  was  its  connection  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  little  branch  full  of  other  leaves.  These 
would  soon  have  dropped  off  and  died  also,  if  you 
had  not  hastened  their  fate." 

"  That's  a  superficial  view,  like  the  one  you  just 
took  of  this  '  miserable  world  '  as  you  call  it.  I 
think  it's  a  very  good  world — a  much  better  one 
than  we  deserve.  And  now  look  closely  and  justly 
at  your  leaf-text's  connection,  as  every  sermonizer 
should,  and  tell  me  what  you  see.  Look  just  here," 
and  her  finger  rested  on  the  little,  .green  spot  where 
the  stem  of  the  leaf  had  joined  the  spray. 

"  I  see  a  very  small  bud,"  he  said,  intelligence 
of  her  meaning  dawning  in  his  face. 

"  Which  will  develop  next  spring  into  other 
leaves,  and  perhaps  into  a  new  branch.  All  summer 
long  your  leaf  has  rustled  and  fluttered  joyously  over 
the  certainty  that,  a  richer  and  fuller  life  would  come 
after  it,  a  life  that  it  was  providing  for  all  through 
the  sunny  days  and  dewy  nights._yihere  is  no  death 
here,  only  change  for  the  better.  And  so  with  every 
thing  that  has  bloomed  and  flourished  in  this  gar 
den  during  the  past  season,  provision  has  been  made 
for  new  and  more  abundant  life.  When  a  king 
exchanges  old  and  worn  apparel,  even  though  regal, 
for  new  and  more  royal  robes,  would  we  sigh  over 
the  old  cast-offs,  as  if  the  king  were  dead,  when  in  a 
few  hours  he  will  be  upon  his  throne  grander  than 
ever.  All  these  bright  but  falling  leaves  and  fading 
flowers  are  but  Queen  Nature's  cast-offs,  her  mere 


336  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ornaments  that  she  is  throwing  carelessly  aside  a3 
she  withdraws  for  a  little  time  from  her  regal  state. 
Wait  till  she  appears  again  next  spring,  as  young, 
fresh,  and  beautiful  as  when,  like  Eve,  she  saw  her 
first  bright  morning.  Come  and  see  her  upon  her 
throne  next  June.  Nature  full  of  death  !/\Why, 
Mr.  Gregory,  she  speaks  of  nothing  but  life  to  those 
who  understand  her  language." 

"  Oh,  that  you  would  teach  it  to  me  !  "  he  said, 
with  a  deeper  meaning  than  she  detected. 

"  Again,"  she  continued,  "  our  theology  does  not 
represent  death  as  making  havoc  anywhere.  It  is 
sin  that  makes  the  havoc,  and  death  is  only  one  of 
its  consequences.  And  even  this  enemy  God  com 
pels  to  work  for  the  good  of  his  friends.  Do  not 
think,"  she  continued,  coming  a  step  nearer  and 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm  in  her  earnestness, 
"  that  I  make  such  allusions  to  pain  you,  and  to 
work  merely  on  your  feelings,  but  only  in  my  sincere 
wish  to  help  you,  and  illustrate  my  meaning  by 
something  you  know  so  well.  Did  death  make  havoc 
in  your  mother's  case?  Was  it  not  rather  a  sombre, 
liveried  janitor  that  opened  for  her  the  gates  of 
heaven  ?  " 

He  was  deeply  touched,  and  turned  away  his 
face.  After  a  moment  he  continued  his  walk,  that 
they  might  get  farther  away  from  the  house  and  the 
danger  of  interruption. 

He  suddenly  startled  Annie  by  saying,  in  a  tone 
of  harsh  and  intense  bitterness: 

"  Her  death  made  '  havoc  '  for  me.     If  she  had 


GREGORY   TELLS   THE    WORST. 


337 


lived  I  might  have  been  a  good  man  instead  of  the 
wretch  I  am.  If  death  as  janitor  opens  the  gates  of 
heaven,  your  religion  teaches  that  it  also  opens  the 
gates  of  hell.  How  can  I  love  a  God  who  shuts  up 
the  sinful  in  an  inferno — in  dungeons  of  many  and 
varied  tortures,  and  racks  them  forever?  Can  I,  just 
ta  escape  all  this,  pretend  that  I  love  Him,  when  in 
truth  I  fear  and  dread  Him  unspeakably  ?  No,  I'll 
never  be  a  hypocrite." 

Tears  glistened  in  Annie's  eyes  as  he  turned  to 
look  at  her. 

"You  pity  me,"  he  said  more  gently.  "Your 
God  does  not.  If  he  wanted  to  be  loved  he  should 
never  have  revealed  a  hell." 

"  Should  he  not  in  mercy,  if  it  really  existed  ? 
And  does  it  not  exist?  Will  merely  a  beautiful 
place  make  heaven  for  anybody?  Mr.  Gregory, 
look  around  this  lovely  autumn  evening.  See  the 
crimson  glory  of  those  clouds  yonder  in  the  west. 
See  that  brightness  shading  off  into  paler  and  more 
exquisite  tints.  Look,  how  those  many-hued  leaves 
reflect  the  glowing  sky.  The  air  is  as  sweet  and 
balmy  as  that  of  Eden  could  have  been.  The  land 
scape  is  beautiful  in  itself,  and  specially  attractive  to 
you.  To  our  human  eyes  it  hardly  seems  as  if  hea 
ven  could  be  more  perfect  than  this.  And  yet,  stand 
ing  in  the  one  spot  of  all  the  earth  most  beautiful 
to  you,  Mr.  Gregory,  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  your 
face  expresses  nothing  but  pain.  There  is  not  even 
a  trace  of  happiness  in  it.  You  were  not  happy 
when  you  came  here.  I  saw  that  the  first  day.  All 


338  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  pleasant  surroundings  of  your  own  home  have 
not  made  you  happy.  Have  they  given  you  even 
peace  and  quiet  ?  Place  does  not  make  heaven  nor 
does  place  make  hell,  though  both  are  distinct  and 
separate  places,  but  something  we  carry  in  our  own 
bosoms." 

His  face  was  white  with  fear,  and  there  was 
terror  in  his  tone  as  he  turned  and  said  to  her  in  a 
low  voice,  "  Miss  Walton,  that  is  what  I  have  been 
coming  to  see  and  dread,  of  late,  and  as  you  put  the 
thought  into  words  I  see  that  it  is  true.  I  carry  hell 
in  my  own  heart.  When  I  am  alone  my  imaginings 
frighten  me ;  and  when  with  others,  impulses  arise  to 
do  the  devil's  own  work." 

"  But  it  is  the  nature  of  God  to  save  from  all  this. 
Christ,  who  is  God,  came  to  earth  for  that  very  pur 
pose.  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  do  not  understand 
Him  better." 

"  He  saves  some,"  said  Gregory  gloomily. 

"  But  many  will  not  let  Him  save  them,"  urged 
Annie. 

"  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  have  Him  save  me, 
but  whether  He  will  or  no  is  the  point  at  issue,  and 
my  hope  is  very  faint.  Everything  to-day,  but  you, 
seems  to  confirm  my  fate.  Miss  Walton,  won't  you 
take  that  little  rustic  seat  there  by  the  brook  ?  I 
wish  to  tell  you  something  that  will  probably  settle 
this  question." 

Annie  wonderingly  complied.  This  was  an  ex 
perience  she  never  had  before.  She  was  rapidly  real 
izing  the  difference  between  being  the  spiritual  guide 
of  the  girls  in  her  Bible  class,  and  the  adviser  of  this 


GREGORY   TELLS   THE    WORST.  339 

strong-minded  but  greatly  perverted  man.  But 
she  turned  to  him  a  face  full  of  sympathy  and 
encouragement. 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  he  did  not  know  how 
to  commence,  and  he  paced  restlessly  up  and  down 
before  her.  Then  he  said  : 

"  Miss  Walton,  you  remember  that  worm-infested 
chestnut  through  which  you  gave  me  such  a  just 
lesson  ?  " 

"  Please  do  not  speak  of  my  foolish  words  at  that 
time,"  she  replied  eagerly. 

"  Pardon  me,  they  were  not  foolish.  They,  with 
the  illustration  of  my  own  choice,  revealed  me  to 
myself  as  never  before.  Had  it  not  been  for  your 
graceful  tact,  I  should  have  made  a  fool  of  myself  by 
being  angry.  If  you  knew  what  I  deserved  then 
you  would  not  have  let  me  off  so  easily.  But  it's 
true.  That  lonely,  selfish  chestnut,  with  a  worm 
in  its  kernel,  was  a  good  emblem  of  myself.  Evil 
is  throned  in  my  heart  supreme  and  malignant. 
I  suppose  it's  through  my  own  fault,  but  be  that  as 
it  may,  it's  there,  my  master.  I  groan  over  and  curse 
the  fact  as  perhaps  the  demon-possessed  did,  but  I 
do  evil  and  think  evil  continually,  and  I  fear  I  always 
will. 

"  No,  listen  to  me  to  the  end,"  he  continued,  as 
Annie  was  about  to  speak. 

"  When  on  that  strange  mountain  expedition,  you 
made  the  remark,  'What  congenial  friends  we  might 
be?'  Those  words  have  echoed  in  my  heart  ever 
since,  like  the  refrain  of  a  home-song  to  a  captive. 


340  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  $URR. 

I  would  give  more  than  I  can  express  for  your 
friendship — for  the  privilege  of  seeing  you  and  speak 
ing  to  you  frankly  on  these  subjects  occasionally,  for 
you  and  you  only  have  inspired  a  faint  hope  that  I 
might  become  a  better  man.  You  are  making  Chris 
tianity  seem  a  reality  and  not  a  fashion.  Though 
possessing  human  weakness  you  triumph  over  it,  and 
you  say  it  is  through  prayer  to  God.  I  find, it  im 
possible  not  to  believe  everything  you  say,  for  what 
ever  are  your  faults  you  are  truth  itself.  Through 
your  influence  the  thought  has  come  that  God  might 
also  hear  and  help  me,  but  I  have  the  fear  and 
almost  the  belief  that  I  have  placed  myself  beyond 
the  pale  of  His  mercy.  At  any  rate  I  have  almost 
lost  hope  in  anything  I  can  do  by  myself.  I  was  in 
moral  despair  when  I  came  here,  and  might  as  well 
have  been  dead,  but  you  have  led  me  to  a  willing 
ness  to  make  one  more  struggle,  and  a  great  one,  if  I 
can  see  in  it  any  chance  of  success.  I  fear  I  am 
deceiving  myself,  but  when  with  you,  though  so 
immeasurably  better  than  I,  hope  steals  into  my 
heart,  that  before  was  paralyzed  by  despair.  When 
you  come  to  know  me  as  I  know  myself,  I  fear  that 
you 'will  shrink  in  just  horror  away,  and  that  I  shall 
see  reflected  in  your  face  the  verdict  of  Heaven, '  You 
have  sinned  away  your  day  of  grace.'  But  you  shall 
know  the  worst— the  very  worst.  I  can  never  use 
deceit  with  you.  If  afterward  you  ever  take  my 
stained  hand  again —  " 

He   did   not   finish  the   sentence,  but  heaved  a 


GREGORY  TELLS  THE    WORST  341 

great  sigh,  as  if  of  longing  and  hope  that  words  could 
not  utter. 

It  was  the  old  truth  illustrated,  that  God  must 
become  human  to  gain  humanity.  Abstract  truth 
could  not  save  this  lost  and  guilty  man,  but  the 
wanderer  hoped  that  in  this  sweet  human  life  he 
had  found  the  clue  back  to  the  Divine  life.  Is  it 
strange  that  God  saves  men  through  other  men,  and 
that  he  carries  on  his  work  through  our  weak  hands? 
Even  He  himself  best  served  man  in  human  guise. 
It  is  because  Christians  pass  by  on  the  other  side 
that  many  perish  by  the  way. 

Annie  trembled  at  the  responsibility  that  now 
suddenly  burdened  her  as  she  saw  this  trembling 
spirit  clinging  to  her  as  the  one  frail  support  from 
the  gulf  of  utter  despair.  She  nerved  herself  by 
prayer  and  the  exertion  of  all  her  will,  to  be  equal  to 
the  emergency. 

And  yet  it  was  a  fearful  ordeal  that  she  was 
called  to  go  through  as  the  remorseful  and  deeply 
agitated  man,  his  face  flushed  with  shame,  now  with 
impassioned,  more  often  with  despairing  gesture  and 
accent,  poured  out  the  story  of  his  past  life,  and  laid 
bare  his  evil  heart,  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
little  walk  before  her. 

The  transaction  with  Hunting  he  purposely 
passed  over,  speaking  of  it  merely  as  a  business 
misfortune  that  had  robbed  him  even  of  earthly  am 
bition.  She  saw  a  few  sin-stained  pages  of  that 
dreadful  book  of  human  guilt  which  God  must  look  at 
every  day. 


342  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Gregory  did  not  spare  himself,  and  palliated 
nothing,  softening  and  brightening  no  harsh  and 
dark  lines.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  stern  and  blunt, 
and  it  was  strange  indeed  to  hear  him  charging  him 
self  before  a  pure,  innocent  young  girl,  whose  good 
opinion  was  life  to  him,  with  what  she  regarded  as 
crimes.  When  he  at  last  came  to  speak  of  his 
designs  against  herself,  of  how  he  had  purposed  to 
take  the  bloom  and  beauty  from  her  character  that 
he  might  laugh  at  goodness  as  a  dream  and  pretence, 
and  despise  her  as  he  did  himself,  his  eye  flashed 
angrily,  and  he  appeared  to  grow  vindictive  against 
himself.  He  could  not  even  look  at  her  during  the 
last  of  his  confession,  but  turned  away  his  face,  fear 
ing  to  see  Annie's  expression  of  aversion  and  disgust. 

It  was  with  a  paling  cheek  and  growing  dread 
that  she  looked  into  that  dark  and  fearful  place,  a 
demon-haunted  heart,  and  her  every  breath  was  a 
prayer  that  God  would  enable  her  to  see  and  act  as 
Christ  would  were  some  poor  creature  revealing  to 
Him  his  desperate  need. 

Gregory  suddenly  paused  in  his  low  but  passion 
ate  flow  of  words,  and  put  his  hand  to  his  head  as  if 
the  pain  were  insupportable.  In  fact,  his  anguish  and 
the  intense  feeling  of  the  day  had  again  brought  on 
one  of  his  old  nervous  headaches.  Thus  far  he  had 
scarcely  noticed  it,  but  now  the  sharp,  quivering 
pangs  proved  how  a  wronged  physical  nature  could 
retaliate ;  how  much  more  the  higher  and  more 
delicate  moral  nature ! 

After  the  paroxysm  had  passed,  he  continued,  in 


GREGORY  TELLS   THE    WORST.  343 

the  hard,  weary  tone  of  utter  dejection  (for  he  had 
dreaded  even  to  look  at  Annie,  and  her  silence  con 
firmed  his  worst  fears),  "  Well,  Miss  Walton,  you 
now  know  the  worst.  On  this  peaceful  Sabbath  even 
ing  you  have  seen  more  of  perdition  than  you  ever 
will  again.  You  cannot  even  speak  to  me,  and  I 
dare  not  look  at  your  face.  The  expression  of  hor 
ror  and  disgust  which  I  know  must  be  there,  would 
blast  me  and  haunt  me  forever.  It  would  be  worse 
than  death,  for  I  did  have  a  faint  hope —  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  an  audible  sob,  and  turn 
ing,  saw  Annie  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands, 
weeping  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  He  was  puzzled 
for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  the  despairing  condition 
of  his  mind,  intrepreted  her  wrongly.  Standing 
above  her  with  clenched  hands,  he  said,4n  the  same 
hard  tones  which  seemed  to  have  passed  beyond  the 
expression  of  feeling : 

"  I'm  a  brute  and  worse — I'm  not  even  a  decent 
devil.  I  have  been  wounding  you  as  with  blows  by 
my  vile  story.  I  have  been  dragging  your  pure 
thoughts  through  the  mire  of  my  wretched  life." 

Annie  tried  to  speak,  but  seemingly  could  not 
for  excess  of  emotion. 

"  Why  could  I  not  have  gone  away  and  died 
by  myself,  like  some  unclean  beast,"  he  muttered. 
Then,  in  a  tone  which  she  never  forgot,  and  with  the 
manner  of  one  who  was  indeed  leaving  hope  and  life 
behind  him,  he  said  : 

"  Farewell,  Miss  Walton,  you  will  be  better  after 
I  am  gone." 


344  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

She  sprang  up,  and  laying  restraining  hands  upon 
his  arm,  sobbed  : 

"  No — no.  Why  don't — you — understand  me? 
My  heart's — breaking  for  you — wait  till  I  can  speak." 

He  placed  her  gently  on  the  seat  again.  A  great 
light  was  coming  into  his  eyes,  and  he  stood  bend 
ing  toward  her  as  if  existence  depended  on  her  next 
words.  Could  it  be  that  her  swelling  throat  and 
heaving  bosom  meant  sympathy  for  him  ? 

She  soon  controlled  herself,  and  looking  up  at 
him  through  her  tears,  but  with  a  light  in  her  eyes 
that  shone  through  them  as  sun-rays  through  the 
rain,  said : 

"  Forgive  me.  I  never  realized  before  that  so 
much  sin  and  suffering  could  exist  in  one  unhappy 
life.  I  do  pity  you,  as  God  does  far  more.  I  will 
help  you  as  He  will." 

Gregory  knelt  at  her  feet,  and  kissed  her  hand 
as  a  captive  might  who  had  just  received  life  and 
liberty. 

"  See,  I  do  not  shrink  from  you,"  she  continued, 
placing  her  hand  with  a  light  caress  upon  his  bowed 
head.  "  My  Master  would  not.  Why  should  I  ?  He 
came  to  save  just  such,  and  just  such  we  all  would 
be  but  for  his  grace  and  shielding.  I'm  so — sorry 
for  you." 

He  turned  hastily  away  for  a  moment  to  hide  his 
feelings,  and  said  slowly : 

"  I  cannot  trust  myself — I  cannot  trust  God  yet  ; 
but  I  trust  you,  and  I  believe  you  have  saved  a  soul 
from  death." 


GREGORY   TELLS   THE    WORST. 


345 


He  stood  looking  toward  the  glowing  west,  and, 
for  the  first  time  for  years,  hoped  that  his  life  might 
close  in  brightness. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Annie,  in  a  voice  so  changed 
that  he  started  and  turned  toward  her  hardly  know 
ing  what  to  expect.  She  stood  beside  him,  no  longer 
a  tender,  compassionate  woman  grieving  for  him  as 
if  his  sin  were  only  misfortune,  but  her  face  was 
almost  stern  in  its  purity  and  earnestness. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  the  mercy  which  God  shows,  and 
which  I  faintly  reflect,  is  for  you  in  sharp  ^distinction 
from  your  sin.  Do  not  for  a  moment  think  that  I 
can  look  with  any  leniency  or  indulgence  on  all  the 
horrible  evil  you  laid  before  me.  Do  not  think  I  can 
excuse  or  pass  lightly  over  it  as  something  of  little 
consequence.  I  hate  your  sin  as  I  hate  my  own.  I 
can  honestly  feel,  and  frankly  show  the  sympathy 
I  have  manifested  only  in  view  of  your  penitence, 
and  your  sincere  purpose,  with  God's  help,  to  root 
out  the  evil  of  your  life.  This  I  am  daily  trying  to 
do,  and  this  you  must  do  in  the  one  and  only  way  in 
which  there  is  any  use  of  trying.  It  is  only  with 
this  clear  understanding*  that  I  can  give  you  my 
hand  in  the  friendship  of  mutual  helpfulness,  and 
in  the  confidence  of  respect." 

He  reverently  took  her  hand  and  said  : 

"Your  conditions  are  just,  Miss  Walton,  and  I 
accept  your  friendship  as  offered  with  a  gratitude  be 
yond  words.  I  can  never  use  deceit  where  you  are 
concerned,  even  in  thought.  But  please  do  not  ex 
pect  too  much  of  me.  I  have  formed  the  habit  of 
IS* 


346  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

doubting.  It  may  be  very  long  before  I  have  your 
simple,  beautiful  faith.  I  will  do  just  the  best  I  can  ! 
I  M  ill  use  what  little  faith  I  have,  and  pray  God  for 
more.  It  seems  that  if  you  will  trust  me,  help  me, 
pray  for  me,  I  can  succeed.  If  I  am  mistaken,  I  will 
carry  my  wretchedness  where  the  sight  of  it  will  not 
pain  you.  If  I  ever  do  reach  your  Christian  life,  I 
will  lavish  a  wealth  of  gratitu'de  upon  you  that  can 
not  be  expressed.  Indeed,  I  will  anyway,  for  you 
have  done  all  and  more  than  I  could  hope." 

"  I  will  do  all  you  ask,"  she  said  heartily,  giving 
at  the  same  time  his  hand  a  strong  pressure  with 
her  warm,  throbbing  palm,  that  sent  a  subtle  current 
of  hope  and  strength  into  his  heart.  Her  face  soft 
ened  into  an  expression  of  almost  sisterly  affection, 
and  with  a  gleam  of  her  old  mirthfulness  she  con 
tinued  : 

"  Take  counsel  of  practical  common  sense,  Mr. 
Gregory.  Why  talk  so  doubtfully  of  success,  seek 
ing  it  as  you  purpose  to  ?  What  right  have  you  to 
even  imagine  that  God  will  bestow  upon  you  the 
great  distinction  of  making  you  the  first  one  of 
the  race  He  refused  to  hear  and  answer?  Be  hum 
ble,  and  believe  that  He  will  treat  you  like  other 
people." 

He  stopped  in  their  slow  walk  toward  the  house 
and  said  with  glad  animation : 

"  Miss  Walton,  do  you  know  you  have  done  more 
to  strengthen  me  in  that  little  speech  than  by  a  long 
and  labored  argument  ?  " 


GREGORY   TELLS   THE    WORST. 


347 


"There  is  nothing  like  common  sense,"  she 
replied,  "  in  religion  as  in  everything  else." 

And  so  they  passed  in  out  of  the  purple  twilight, 
Annie's  heart  thrilling  with  something  of  the  joy 
of  heaven  over  the  repentant  sinner,  and  Gregory 
feeling  as  if  the  dawn  were  coming  after  Egyptian 
night. 

As  they  left  the  garden  a  dusky  face  peered 
out  of  some  thick  shrubbery  and  looked  cautiously 
around.  Then  Jeff  appeared  and  scratched  his  head 
perplexedly  as  he  soliloquized  : 

"  Mister  Hunting,  he  guv  me  ten  dollars  to  watch 
and  see.  I'se  seed  too  much  for  his  good  dis  yer 
day." 

Jeff  gave  the  scene  just  described  a  very  different 
meaning  from  its  real  character. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  OLD  HOME  IN  DANGER — GREGORY  RETRIEVES 
HIMSELF. 

f~*  REGORY  made  desperate  efforts  to  keep  up  at 
the  supper  table,  but  could  not  prevent  slight 
evidences  of  physical  pain,  which  Annie  silently  no 
ticed.  After  tea  he  hoped  to  escape  to  his  room, 
for  he  could  not  endure  to  show  even  his  physical 
weakness  so  soon  again.  On  the  contrary,  he  was 
longing  intensely  for  an  opportunity  to -manifest  a 
little  strength  of  some  kind.  After  his  recent  inter 
view  he  felt  that  he  could  even  bear  one  of  his  ner 
vous  headaches  alone.  But  as  he  was  about  to  excuse 
himself,  Annie  interrupted,  saying : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  that  is  not  according  ta 
agreement.  Do  you  suppose  I  cannot  see  that  you 
are  half  beside  yourself  with  one  of  your  old  head 
aches  ?  Was  I  such  a  poor  physician  the  last  time, 
that  you  seek  to  escape  me  now?  Comeback  to 
the  parlor  I  will  not  go  out  to  church  this  evening, 
but  devote  myself  to  you." 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  replied  in  a  low  tone,  "  when 
can  I  make  any  return  for  all  your  kindness?  I 
must  seem  weakness  itself  in  every  respect,  and  I 
dread  to  appear  to  you  always  in  that  light." 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF. 


349 


*  Your  pride  needs  bringing  down,  sir  ;  see  how 
towering  it  is.  Here  you  would  go  off  by  yourself, 
and  endure  a  useless  martyrdom  all  night  perhaps, 
when,  by  bathing  your  head  and  a  few  simple  reme 
dies,  I  can  relieve  you,  or  at  least  help  you  forget 
the  pain.  I  have  not  the  slightest  objection  to  your 
being  a  martyr,  but  I  want  some  good  to  come  out 
of  it." 

"  But  I  will  spoil  your  evening." 

"  Certainly  you  will,  if  I  think  of  you  groaning 
up  there  by  yourself,  while  I  am  singing,  perhaps, 

'  I  love  to  steal  awhile  away 
From  every  cumbering  care  ! '  " 

"  Then  I'm  a  cumbering  care  !  " 

"Whether  you  are  or  not,  I'm  not  going  to  steal 
away  from  you  to-night.  Good  people  treat  theii 
duties  too  often  in  that  style.  Come,  do  as  I  bid 
you." 

He  was  only  too  glad  to  submit  to  her  delicious 
tyranny.  She  wheeled  the  lounge  up  to  the  fire  and 
placed  her  chair  beside  it,  while  the  rest  of  the  fam 
ily,  seeing  that  he  had  his  old  malady,  went  to  the 
sitting-room. 

"  I  have  great  pride  in  my  nursing  powers,"  she 
continued  in  her  cheery  way.  "  Now,  if  I  were  a 
man,  I'd  certainly  be  a  doctor." 

"Thank  heaven  you  are  not,"  he  said,  with  a 
devout  earnestness  that  quite  startled  her. 

"  What?     A  doctor?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"  Yes,  no  ;  I  mean  a  man,  and  doctor  too." 


350  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  show  such  bitter 
opposition  to  my  being  a  man  or  doctor  either.  Why 
should  you  ?  " 

"Oh — well — I 'think  you  are  just'  right  as  a 
woman.  You  make  me  believe  in  the  doctrine  of 
election,  for  it  seems  to  me  that  you  were  destined 
from  all  eternity  to  be  just  what  you  are." 

"  What  a  strange,  unfathomable  doctrine  that 
is  !  "  said  Annie  softly  and  musingly. 

"  It's  nothing  but  mystery  all  around  us,"  he 
replied  wearily  and  dejectedly. 

"  No,  not  '  all  around  us,'  "  she  answered  quickly. 
"  It's  clear  when  we  look  up.  Faith  builds  a  safe 
bridge  to  God,  and  he  sees  no  mysteries." 

Then  sweetly  and  naturally  she  let  her  playful 
talk  glide  upon  sacred  themes,-  and  while  by  her 
gentle  touch  she  charmed  away  pain,  she  also  applied 
the  healing  balm  of  truth  to  his  now  receptive 
mind. 

If  she  did  not  teach  him  to  love  God  that  even 
ing,  she  certainly,  though  in  complete  unconscious 
ness,  did  confirm  his  love  for  her.  With  intense 
gratitude,  as  for  one  who  had  rescued  him  from  a  fate 
infinitely  worse  than  death,  he  felt  that  he  could  kiss 
the  very  hem  of  her  garment.  Her  touch  thrilled 
him,  and  her  presence  was  both  exhilarating  and 
restful. 

At  last  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry  you  have  these 
dreadful  headaches  so  often." 

"  I  will  never  be  again." 

"Why  so?" 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  351 

"  Because  they  have  led  to  this  evening.  It  has 
been  so  many  long,  miserable  years  since  I  expe 
rienced  anything  like  this." 

"  Ah,  I  see,  you  have  been  very  lonely.  You 
Jiave  had  no  one  to  care  for  you,  and  that  I  believe 
has  been  the  cause  of  half  your  trouble — evil,  I 
mean.  Indeed,  they  are  about  the  same  thing.  Don't 
you  see  ?  '-The  world  is  too  large  a  place  for  a  home. 
You  need  a  nook  in  it,  with  some  one  there  to  look 
after  you,  and  for  you  to  think  about." 

He  looked  at  her  searchingly,  and  then  turned 
away  his  face  in  pain.  She  could  not  utter  such 
words  in  that  placid  style,  were  she  not  utterly 
devoid  of  the  feeling  that  was  filling  his  soul  with  an 
ecstasy  of  hope  and  fear. 

"  Do  not  think  that  even  many  of  our  sex  are 
like  Miss   Bently.     You  will  see  and  choose   more , 
wisely  hereafter,  and   find  that,  in   exchanging  that 
wretched  club-life  for  a  cosey  home  of  your  own,  you 
take  a  good  step  in  all  respects." 

"  Would  to  heaven  that  I  had  met  such  a  girl  as 
you  at  first,"  he  ventured  to  say.  "  How  different 
then  all  might  have  been  !  " 

"  There  is  no  use  of  dwelling  on  the  past,"  she 
replied  innocently.  "  You  are  now  pledged  to  make 
the  future  right. " 

"  God  helping  me,  I  will.  I  will  use  every  means 
in  my  power,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  earnestness  ; 
and ,  as  principal  part  of  the  means,  determined  to 
take  her  advice,  but  with  reference  to  herself.  After 
a  few  m  :>ments  he  said  : 


352  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Miss  Walton,  as  I  promised  to  be  perfectly 
frank  with  you,  I  want  to  ask  an  explanation  of  some 
thing  that  I  do  not  understand,  and  which  has  been 
almost  a  heavenly  surprise  to  me.  I  was  almost 
certain  before  this  afternoon  that  when  you  came  to 
know  what  a  stained,  evil  man  I  am — " 

"  Were,"  interrupted  Annie. 

"  No,  what  a  wicked  man  I  am.  Character  is 
'not  made  in  a  moment.  As  yet,  I  only  hope  and 
purpose  to  do  better.  I  can  hardly  understand  why 
you  do  not  shrink  from  me  in  disgust.  It  seemed 
that  both  your  faith  and  your  nature  would  lead  you 
to  do  this.  I  thought  it  possible  that  out  of  your 
kindness  you  might  try  to  stand  at  a  safe  distance 
and  give  me  some  good  advice  across  the  gulf.  But 
that  which  I  feared  would  drive  you  from  me  forever, 
has  only  brought  you  nearer.  Again  I  say,  it  has 
been  a  heavenly  surprise." 

"  You  use  the  word  '  heavenly '  with  more  appro 
priateness  than  you  think,"  she  replied  gravely. 
"  All  such  surprises  are  heavenly  in  their  origin,  and 
my  course  is  but  a  faint  reflection  of  Heaven's  dispo 
sition  toward  you,  and  was  prompted  by  the  duty  I 
owe  to  God  as  well  as  to  you.  Human  or  self-right 
eousness  would  have  led  me  in  Pharisaic  pride  to 
say,  t  Stand  aside,  I  am  holier  than  thou.'  But  you 
have  only  to  read  the  life  of  the  perfect  One,  Christ 
Jesus,  to  know  that  in  so  doing  I  would  not  have 
been  like  him.  He  laid  his  rescuing  hands  on  both 
the  physical  and  moral  leper —  " 

"  As  you  have  upon  me,"  said  Gregory,  with  a 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  353 

look  of  such  intense  gratitude  that  she  was  embar 
rassed. 

"  I  deserve  no  great  credit,  for  it  was  only  right 
that  I  should  do  the  utmost  in  my  power  to  help 
you.  How  else  could  I  be  a  Christian — a  Christ- 
like  person — in  any  real  sense?  To  save  was  the 
mission  and  passion  of  his  life.  But  there's  no 
thing  strange  about  it.  Christianity  is  not  like 
false  religions,  that  require  unnatural  and  useless 
sacrifices.  If  I  were  a  true  physician,  and  found  you 
suffering  from  a  terrible  and  contagious  disease, 
while  I  feared  and  loathed  the  disease,  I  might  have 
the  deepest  sympathy  for  you  and  do  my  best  to 
cure  you.  I  do  loathe  the  sin  you  confessed,  inex 
pressibly.  See  how  near  it  came  to  destroying  you. . 
While  God  hates  the  sin,  he  ever  loves  the  sinner." 

UI  hope  you  will  always  be  divine  in  that  "re 
spect,"  he  could  not  forbear  saying  with  rising  color. 

But  Annie's  thoughts  were  so  intent  on  what 
was  uppermost  in  her  heart  that  she  did  not  notice 
his  covert  meaning,  and  said  innocently : 

"  I  will  give  you  honest  friendship  as  long  as  you 
honestly  try  to  redeem  the  pledges  of  to-day." 

"  Then  I  have  your  friendship  for  life,  be  it  long 
or  short,"  said  he  decisively. 

With  more  lightness  in  her  tone  she  said,  "  And 
I  too  will  ask  a  question  that  has  a  bearing  on  a 
little  theory  of  my  own.  Supposing  I  had  shrunk 
from  you,  and  tried  to  give  some  good  religious 
advice  from  a  safe  distance,  what  would  you  have 
done  ?  " 


354  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR, 

"  Left  for   New   York  to-rnorrow,  and   gone   as 
straight   to    the    devil   as    one    of  his   own   imps/ 
he  replied  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

She  sighed  deeply,  and  said,  "  I  fear  you 'would — 
that  is,  left  yourself.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  is  the  way  the  church  is  trying  to 
save  the  world.  Suppose  a  doctor  should  address 
his  patients  through  a  speaking-trumpet  and  hand 
them  his  remedies  on  the  end  of  a  very  long  rod. 
Death  would  laugh  at  his  efforts.  People  can  be 
saved  only  as  Christ  saved  them.  We  must  go 
where  they  are,  lay  our  hands  upon  them,  and  look 
sympathy  and  hope  right  into  their  eyes.  If 
Christ's  followers  would  only  do  this,  how  many 
more  might  be  rescued  who  now  seem  hopelessly 
given  over  to  evil." 

"  Those  who  won't  do  it,"  said  Gregory  bitterly, 
"  are  in  no  sense  his  true  followers,  but  are  merely 
the  '  hangers  on  '  of  his  army,  seeking  to  get  out  of 
it  all  they  can  for  self.  Every  general  knows  that 
the  '  camp-followers  '  are  the  bane  of  an  army." 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  she  gently,  "  we  are 
not  the  general,  and  therefore  not  the  judge.  After 
this  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  in  the  regular  ranks, 
ready  to  give  and  take  blows." 

Mr.  Walton  and  Miss  Eulie  now  returned  from 
church,  and  Gregory  professed  to  feel,  and  indeed 
was,  much  better,  and  after  a  little  music  they  sepa 
rated  for  the  night. 

Though  still  suffering,  Gregory  sat  by  his  fire  a 
long  time,  forgetful  of  pain.  In  his  experience  he 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  355 

illustrated  how  Paul  could  sing  at  midnight  in  the 
inner  prison,  though  scourged  and  bleeding. 

High,  blustering  winds  prevailed  all  the  following 
day,  but  they  only  made  the  quiet  and  cosiness  of 
Mr.  Walton's  fireside  more  delightful.  Gregory  did 
not  care  to  go  out  if  he  went  alone.  He  wished  to 
be  where  he  could  see  Annie  as  often  as  possible,  for 
every  word  and  smile  from  her  in  the  intervals  of 
her  duties  was  precious.  As  his  mind  had  been 
awakened  to  better  things,  Annie  and  religion  were 
inseparable.  He  did  honestly  mean  to  become  a 
good  man  if  it  were  possible,  but  he  saw  in  her  the 
only  hopeful  means.  He  did  not  pretend  to  either 
faith  or  love  to  God  as  yet,  but  only  felt  a  glow  of 
gratitude,  a  warming  of  his  heart  toward  Him  in 
view  of  His  great  mercy  in  sending  to  his  aid  such  a 
gentle  ministering  spirit  as  Annie  had  proved.  He 
took  it  as  an  omen  that  God  meant  kindly  by  him, 
and  through  this  human  hand  might  save  at  last. 

And  he  clung  to  this  hand  as  the  drowning  do  to 
anything  that  keeps  them  from  sinking  into  dark 
and  unknown  depths.  He  saw  in  Annie  Walton 
earthly  happiness  certainly,  and  his  best  prospect  of 
heaven.  What  wonder  then  that  his  heart  lay  at 
her  feet  in  entire  consecration.  ,  Apart  from  the 
peculiar  fascination  that  Annie  herself  had  for  him, 
he  had  motives  for  loving  her  that  actuate  but.few. 
If  she  had  saved  him  from  physical  death  it  would 
have  been  a  little  thing  in  comparison,  but  he  shud 
dered  to  think  of  the  precipice  from  which  she  had 
drawn  him  back.  Through  her  he  might  escape 


356  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

eti.rnal  degradation,  and  he  already  lavished  upon 
her  a  love  akin  to  that  which  the  redeemed  will  at 
last  lay  at  the  feet  of  Him  who  for  their  sakes 
became  a  "  Man  of  sorrows."  Gregory  did  not  know 
Him  yet. 

But  he  was  cautious  in  revealing  himself  to 
Annie.  The  presence  of  others  was  a  restraint,  and 
he  plainly  saw  that  she  had  no  such  regard  for  him 
as  he  felt  for  her.  But  he  hoped  with  intense  fervor 
— yes,  he  even  prayed  to  that  God  whom  he  had  so 
long  slighted — that  in  time  she  might  return  his 
love. 

But  to-day  he  would  close  his  eyes  on  the  past 
and  future.  She,  the  sunshine  of  his  soul,  was  near, 
and  he  was  content  to  bask  in  her  smiles. 

Annie  had  given  her  father  and  aunt  to  under 
stand  that  their  conspiracy  promised  to  result  in 
success,  and  they  treated  him  with  marked  but  deli 
cate  kindness.  The  day  passed  in  music,  reading, 
and  cheerful  conversation,  and  to  Gregory  it  was 
the  happiest  he  ever  remembered — one  of  those 
sweet  May  days  that,  by  some  happy  blunder  of 
nature  seemingly,  occasionally  blesses  us  in  March — 
and  he  made  the  very  most  of  it.  Its  close  found 
Annie  Walton  enthroned  in  his  heart.  He  worship 
ped  at  a  human  shrine,  and  forgot  the  solemn  words, 
"  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  gods  before  me." 

As  for  Annie,  he  perplexed  her  a  little,  but  she 
explained  everything  peculiar  in  his  words  and  man 
ner  on  the  ground  of  his  gratitude  only,  and  the  glow 
of  his  newly-awakened  moral  nature.  If  she  had 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  357 

been  an  experienced  belle,  with  the  vanity  usually 
possessed  by  those  pretty  pain-givers,  she  might  have 
understood  his  symptoms  better,  but  she  was  one  of 
the  last  in  the  world  to  imagine  people  falling  in 
love  with  her.  Never  having  received  much  admi 
ration  from  strangers,  with  no  long  list  of  victims, 
and  believing  from  her  own  experience  that  love 
was  a  gradual  growth  resulting  from  long  knowledge 
and  intimacy  with  its  object,  she  could  not  dream 
that  this  critical  man  of  the  world,  who  had  seen  the 
beauties  of  two  continents,  would  in  a  few  days  be 
carried  away  with  her  plain  face.  Nor  was  he  by 
her  face,  but  by  herself. 

Men  of  mind  rarely  are  captivated  by  a  face 
merely,  however  beautiful,  but  what  it  represents,  or 
what  they  imagine  it  does.  Woe  be  .to  the  beauty 
who  has  no  better  capital  than  her  face.  With  It  she 
can  allure  some  one  into  marrying  her ;  but  if  he 
married  for  an  intelligent  companion,  he  is  like 
to  prove  the  most  .disappointed  and  indifferent 
of  husbands  on  discovering  the  fraud.  The  world 
will  never  get  over  its  old  belief  that  the  fair  face  is 
the  index  of  graces  slightly  vailed,  and  ready  to  be 
revealed  when  the  right  to  know  is  gained.  In 
nursery  rhymes,  in  fairy  tales,  and  the  average  novel, 
the  beautiful  heroine  is  also  lovely,  and  so  in  spite 
of  adverse  experience  the  world  will  ever  expect  wis 
dom  and  truth  from  red  lips,  till  they  say  too  much 
— till  the  red  lips  themselves  prove  the  contrary. 
Then  come  the  anger  and  disgust  which  men  ever 
visit  upon  those  who  deceive  and  disappoint  them. 


358  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Beauty  is  a  dainty  and  exquisite  vestibule  to  a 
temple ;  but  when  a  worshipper  is  beguiled  into 
entering  only  to  find  a  stony,  misshapen  idol  and  a 
dingy  shrine,  this  does  not  conduce  to  future  devo 
tion. 

Annie's  face  would  not  arrest  passers-by,  and  so 
she  had  not  been  spoiled  by  too  much  homage,  which 
is  not  good  for  man  or  woman,  but  after  passing 
the  plain,  simple  portico  of  externals  into  the  inner 
temple  of  her  sweet  and  truthful  life,  the  heart  once 
hers  would  worship  with  undying  faith  and  love. 

Gregory  had  come  to  interest  her  deeply,  not 
only  on  the  ground  of  his  need,  but  because  she 
saw  in  him  great  capabilities  for  good !  In  all  his 
evil,  his  downright  honesty  and  lack  of  conceit  in 
spired  a  kind  of  respect.  She  also  saw  that  this 
excessively  fastidious  man  had  learned  to  admire 
and  esteem  her  greatly.  It  was  not  in  her  woman's 
nature  to  be  indifferent  to  this  fact.  She  felt  that  if 
he  could  be  redeemed  from  his  evil  he  might  become 
a  congenial  and  valuable  friend  indeed,  and  if  she 
could  be  the  means  of  rescuing  the  son  of  her  fa 
ther's  friend,  it  would  ever  be  one  of  her  happiest 
memories.  But  with  her  heart  already  occupied 
with  a  noble  ideal  of  Hunting,  the  possibility  of 
anything  more  than  friendship  never  entered  her 
mind.  The  very  fact  that  her  affections  were  so  en 
gaged  made  her  blind  to  manifestations  on  the  part 
of  Gregory,  which  might  otherwise  have  awakened 
suspicion.  Still  the  confidential  relations  growing 
up  between  them  made  her  wish  that  she  might 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  359 

reveal  to  him  her  engagement  to  Hunting;  and  she 
would  have  done  so,  did  he  not  resent  the  slightest 
allusion  in  that  direction.  It  now  seemed  proba^ 
ble  that  Hunting  would  return  before  Gregory  took 
his  departure,  and  if  so,  she  felt  that  she  could  im 
mediately  reconcile  them.  She  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  her  best  course  was  to  wait  till  she 
could  bring  them  together,  and  so  make  the  thing 
certain  by  her  own  presence  and  influence  ;  for  now, 
in  her  increasing  regard  for  Gregory,  she  was  deter 
mined  that  they  all  should  be  on  good  terms,  so 
that  in  the  city  home  to  which  she  looked  forward, 
the  man  she  was  trying  to  lead  to  true  life  might  be 
a  frequent  and  welcome  visitor. 

But  it  is  a  difficult  thing  to  keep  such  friend 
ships  Platonic  in  their  nature  under  any  circum 
stances,  and  in  view  of  Gregory's  feelings,  Annie's 
pretty  dreams  of  the  future  would  be  but  -baseless 
dreams. 

Monday  evening  was  one  of  those  genial  domestic 
experiences  that  make  home  more  satisfying  in  its 
pleasures  than  all  the  excitements  of  the  world. 
Mr.  Walton  had  a  slight  cold,  and  Annie  was  nursing 
and  petting  him,  while  contributing  to  the  general 
enjoyment,  by  reading  the  daily  paper,  and  singing 
some  new  ballads  which  she  had  just  obtained  from 
New  York.  Her  father's  indisposition  was  so  slight 
that  it  merely  occasioned  those  little  attentions 
which  are  pleasant  for  affection  to  bestow  and  receive. 
The  wind  howled  dismally  without,  only  to  en 
hance  the  sense  of  peace  and  comfort  within,  and  at 


360  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  usual  hour  all  retired  to  the  deeper  peace  and 
rest  of  sleep,  without  even  the  passing  thought  that 
anything  might  disturb  them  before  they  met  again 
at  the  cheerful  breakfast-table. 

r  In  a  world  like  ours  there  is  but  one  place  where 
continued  peace  and  the  absolute  assurance  of  safety 
can  be  maintained — the  depths  of  a  soul  stayed  on 
Christ.  .' 

Some  time  during  the  night  Gregory  seemed  to 
hear  three  distinct  peals  of  thunder,  wrathful  and 
threatening,  and  then  a  voice  like  that  of  Annie 
Walton  calling  him  to  escape  a  great  danger.  But 
it  seemed  that  he  was  paralyzed,  and  strove  in 
vain  to  move  hand  or  foot.  Again  and  louder 
pealed  the  thunder,  and  more  urgent  came  the  call 
of  the  warning  voice.  By  a  desperate  effort  he 
sprang  with  a  bound  upon  the  floor,  and  then  real 
ized  that  what  seemed  thunder  in  the  exaggeration 
of  his  dream  was  loud  knocking  at  his  door.  Annie's 
voice  again  called  : 

'  "  Mr.    Gregory,   awake,    dress — there    is   a   fire. 
There  may  be  danger." 

He  assured  her  that  he  would  be  out  in  a  few 
moments,  and  had  only  to  open  a  shutter  to  obtain 
plenty  of  light,  though  he  could  not  see  from  whence 
it  came.  In  five  minutes  he  hastened  down  stairs 
and  found  Mr.  Walton  just  issuing  from  his  room ; 
and  all  went  out  on  the  front  piazza.  Gregory  then 
saw  that  a  large  factory  some  distance  up  the  stream 
was  burning,  and  that  the  fire  was  under  such  head 
way  that  nothing  could  save  the  building.  The 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF. 


361 


wind  had  increased  during  the  night  and  fanned  the 
flames  into  terrific  fury.  The  building  was  old  and 
dry,  inviting  destruction  in  every  part. 

For  a  while  they  gazed  with  that  fearful  awe 
which  this  terrible  element,  no  longer  servant,  but 
master,  always  inspires.  Susie  had  not  been  well 
during  the  night,  and  in  waiting  on  her,  Annie  had 
discovered  the  disaster. 

A  warning  co'ugh  from  Mr.  Walton  revealed  to 
Annie  the  danger  of  staying  out  in  the  raw  winds  ; 
but  from  the  hall  windows  everything  was  apparent, 
and  silently  they  watched  the  rapid  progress  of  the 
flames.  The  fire  had  caught  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
building,  and  was  advancing  up  from  floor  to  floor 
with  its  horrid  illumination  at  the  windows. 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  do  any  good  by  going 
there  ?  "  asked  Gregory. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Walton.  "  The  whole  of 
the  New- York  Fire  Department  could  not  save  it 
now  ;  and  from  the  sounds  I  hear,  there  will  soon  be 
throngs  of  people  there.  Indeed,  I  am  anxious  about 
my  own  place.  When,  that  shingle  roof  commences 
to  burr^  there  is  no  telling  how  far  the  wind  will 
carry  the  cinders." 

Annie  looked  at  her  father  in  quick  alarm,  then 
drew  Miss  Eulie  aside,  and  they  immediately  went 
up  stairs. 

With   a   more    painful    interest,    Gregory    now 

watched  the  scene.     The  tall  ladders  which  had  first 

been  raised  against  the   building  were  withdrawn. 

They  were  useless,  for   the  whole  interior  seemed 

16 


362  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ablaze.  Great  tongues  of  fire  began  leaping  from  the 
windows,  mocking  every  effort.  The  rapid  steps  of 
those  hastening  to  the  scene  resounded  along  the 
road,  and  the  startling  cry  of  "  Fire  !  Fire ! "  was 
heard  up  and  down  the  valley  till  they  all  merged 
in  the  shouts  and  cries  around  the  burning  building. 
Mingling  with  the  deeper,  hoarser  tones  of  men  were 
the  shrill  voices  of  women,  showing  that  they  too  had 
been  drawn  to  witness*a  destruction  that  meant  to 
them  loss  of  bread.  The  foliage  near  was  bloody  red 
in  the  dreadful  glare,  and  the  neighboring  pines 
tossed  their  tasselled  boughs  like  dark  plumes  at  a 
torchlight  funeral.  With  a  sudden  roar  a  pyramid  of 
flame  shot  up  through  the  roof,  and  was  echoed  by  a 
despairing  cry  from  those  whose  vocation  now  indeed 
was  gone.  A  moment  later  a  fiery  storm  of  flakes 
and  burning  shingles  filled  the  sky. 

To  their  great  joy  the  wind  was  from  such  a 
quarter  as  to  carry  this  destructive  tempest  past 
them  into  the  woodland  back  of  the  house,  which 
happily  had  been  rendered  damp  by  recent  rains. 

But  a  cinder  frequently  sailed  by*  unpleasantly 
near,  reminding  one  of  scattering  shots  in^a  battle. 
A  slight  change  of  wind  would  be  their  destruction, 
and  a  single  stray  firebrand  would  endanger  them. 

Just  as  they  began  to  breathe  somewhat  freely 
hoping  that  danger  was  about  past,  a  sudden  side- 
eddy  of  the  gale  scattered  a  shower  of  sparks  and 
burning  shingles  over  the  house  and  out-buildings. 
Mr.  Walton  immediately  rushed  forth,  and,  with  a 
little  whistle  he  usually  carried,  gave  a  shrill  sum- 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF. 

mons  for  Jeff,  who  lived  in  a  cottage  near.  But  Jeff 
was  off  to  the  fire,  and  so  did  not  appear.  Walter 
and  Annie  also  hastened  out,  and  all  ran  to  the  barn 
and  out-buildings  first,  as  from  their  nature  they 
were  most  inflammable.  To  their  joy,  no  traces  of 
fire  were  seen.  One  or  two  smoking  brands  lay  in 
the  door-yard,  where  they  could  cause  no  injury. 
But  a  cry  of  alarm  from  Annie,  who  had  stayed 
nearer  the  house,  brought  Mr.  Walton  and  Gregory 
to  her  side  instantly.  Pointing  to  the  roof  of  their 
house,  she  said,  in  tones  of  strong  excitement : 

"  See  there — oh,  see  there  !  " 

A  burning  piece  of  wood  had  caught  on  the 
highest  part  near  the  ridge,  and  was  smoking  and 
smouldering  in  a  way  that,  with  the  strong  wind 
fanninp  it,  would  surely  cause  destruction  if  not  dis 
lodged. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do?  "  she  cried,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  Can  a  ladder  reach  it  ?  " 

"  The  roof  is  too  steep,  even  if  it  did,"  said  Mr. 
Walton. 

"  Where  is  the  ladder?  "  cried  Gregory. 

"  By  the  carriage-house.     But  I  fear  it  is  useless." 

"  Will  you  help  me  bring  it,  sir  ?  " 

They  instantly  brought  the  longest  ladder  on 
the  place,  but  saw  that  though  it  might  touch  the 
eaves,  it  would  not  reach  the  ridge.  The  roof  was 
so  steep  that  one  could  not  keep  footing  on  it ;  and 
when  they  took  time  to  look  and  consider,  both 
gentlemen  admitted  that  the  effort  in  that  direction 
would  fail,  and  probably  at  the  cost  of  life. 


364  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Is  there  no  scuttle  by  which  to  get  out  on  the 
roof?"  asked  Gregory. 

"  No.  Quick,  Annie,  get  out  what  you  can,  for 
we  shall  soon  be  homeless." 

"  Wait,"  said  Gregory..  "  Is  there  no  way  to 
reach  the  roof?7' 

"  None  that  we  can  use.  A  light  and  daring 
climber  might  possibly  reach  the  ridge  by  the  light 
ning-rod,  after  leaving  the  ladder." 

"Where  is  it?"  cried  Gregory,  eager  to  do  some 
thing  to  make  impossible  even  the  thought  -that  he 
was  cowardly  ;  for  the  memory  of  his  course  in  the 
counterfeiter's  den  rankled  deeply. 

"  No,"  cried  both  Mr.  Walton  and  Annie,  laying 
their  hands  on  him.  "  Your  life  is  worth  more  than 
the  house." 

"My  life  is  my  own,"  he  answefed.  "I  will 
make  an  effort  to  save  the  dear  old  place.  Quick, 
help  me.  Here,  girls  (to  Zibbie  and  Hannah,  who 
now  stood  beside  them  in  dismay),  take  hold  of  that 
end  of  the  ladder,  and  carry  it  out  there.  Now  push 
it  up  while  I  hold  its  foot.  There,  that's  it — I  will 
do  it.  You  cannot  hinder,  but  only  help.  Miss 
Walton,  get  me  a  rope.  Haste,  while  I  prepare  to 
climb." 

With  the  help  of  the  stout  women,  whose  strength 
was  doubled  by  their  fears  and  excitement,  he  placed 
the  ladder  against  the  lightning-rod  and  siding  of 
the  house  just  under  the  ridge.  His  tones  were 
determined  and  authoritative. 

He  was  now  acting  as  Annie  would  if  she  were  a 


GREGOR  Y  RE  TRIE  VES  HIMSELF.  365 

man,  and  she  admired  and  respected  him  as  never 
before.  In  two  or  three  moments  she  and  her  father 
returned  with  a  line,  but  again  expostulated. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  the  risk  is  too  great." 

"  You  can't  prevent  it,"  said  he  firmly.  "  I  ab 
solve  you  from  all  responsibility.  I  take  the  risk  in 
spite  of  you.  Haste — see  how  it's  burning.  There, 
that  will  do.  Stand  back." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  was  climbing. 

"  Now  that's  generous,"  said  Annie  ;  "but  if  you 
are  injured,  I  will  never  forgive  myself." 

He  turned,  and  for  a  second  smiled  down  upon 
her. 

The  strength  of  his  new-born  love  made  him 
glad  to  endanger  even  life  in  her  service,  and  the 
thought  "  I  can  at  last  win  a  little  respect,  as  well 
as  sympathy"  nerved  him  to  double  his  ordinary 
powers.  Like  most  country  boys  he  had  been  a 
bold,  active  climber,  and  his  knowledge  and  former 
skill  made  his  present  attempt  possible.  The  main 
question  was  whether  in  his  feeble  state  his  strength 
would  hold  out.  But  the  strong  excitement  for  the 
moment  would  serve  him  in  place  of  muscle.  He 
had  thrown  off  his  coat  and  boots,  and,  with  a  small 
rope  fastened  about  his  waist,  he  swiftly  ascended 
to  the  top  of  the  ladder.  But  there  were  three  or 
four  feet  that  he  must  overhand  up  the  lightning- 
rod  in  order  to  reach  the  ridge.  It  was  a  large, 
twisted  affair,  and  gave  him  a  good  hold,  but  he 
had  to  take  the  risk  of  its  being  strong  enough  in  its 
fastening  to  sustain  his  weight.  Fortunately  it  was, 


366  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

and  he  unhesitatingly  commenced  the  perilous  effort. 
He  made  good  progress  till  he  was  within  a  foot 
of  the  ridge.  Then  his  strength  began  to  fail,  and 
plainly  to  those  below  he  wavered. 

With  white  face,  clasped  hands,  and  lips  moving 
in  prayer,  Annie  watched  him.  Her  heart  almost 
stood  still  with  dread  ;  and  when  toward  the  last  he 
slowly  and  still  more  slowly  overhanded  upward, 
plainly  indicating  that  his  strength  was  ebbing,  she 
cried,  in  an  agony  of  fear  : 

"  Come  back,  oh,  come  back.  What  is  all  here 
to  your  life  ?  " 

A  second  before  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  must 
fail,  that  he  might  suddenly  fall  at  her  feet  a  crushed 
and  lifeless  mass,  but  her  voice  revived  him,  and  the 
passionate  thought  came  with  inspiring  power,  "  I 
can  do  more  to  win  her  love  now  than  by  years  of 
effort ; "  and  he  made  a  desperate  struggle,  gained 
the  ridge,  and  -crawled  out  upon  it,  panting  for  a 
moment,  and  powerless  to  do  more  than  cling  for 
support. 

The  burning  cinder  was  now  but  little  in  advance 
of  him,  and  he  saw  that  there  was  not  a  second  to 
lose.  It  had  charred  and  blackened  the  roof  where 
it  caught,  and  fanned  by  the  wind,  was  a  live,  glow- 
Ing  coal.  The  shingles  under  it  were  smoking — 
yes,  smouldering.  Were  it  not  for  their  dampness 
and  mossy  age,  they  would  have  been  blazing.  In  a 
few  moments  nothing  could  save  the  house. 

As  sooii  as  he  got  his  breath,  he  crept  along  the 
ridge  within  reach  of  the  fiery  flake.  There  seemed 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  367 

no  place  where  he  could  lay  hold  of  it  without  burn 
ing  himself.  It  would  not  do  to  simply  detach  it,  as 
it  might  catch  farther  down  the  steep  roof  where  it 
could  not  be  reached.  Chief  of  all,  there  was  not  a 
moment  to  spare.  He  did  not  hesitate,  but  with 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  use  his  left  instead  of 
his  right  hand,  he  seized  the  fatal  brand  and  hurled 
it,  a  fiery  meteor,  clear  of  the  house.  It  hurt  him 
cruelly,  and  for  a  moment  he  felt  sick  and  faint ;  but 
a  round  of  applause  from  those  below  (for  now  Miss 
Eulie,  the  children  also,  were  out,  looking  tremblingly 
on),  and  Annie's  cry  of  joy  and  encouragement,  again 
gave  him  strength. 

But  as  he  looked  closely  at  the  spot  where  the 
cinder  lay,  his  fears  were  realized.  It  had  ignited 
the  roof.  A  little  water  would  extinguish  it  now, 
but  in  a  few  moments,  under  the  wild  wind  that  was 
blowing,  all  would  be  ablaze. 

He  crawled  to  the  end  of  the  ridge  and  shouted : 

"  Tie  a  light  pail  of  water  to  the  cord1— not  much 
at  a  time,  or  I  can't  draw  it  up." 

Annie  darted  to  the  house  for  a  lighter  pail  than 
Hannah  had  brought,  and  to  Gregory's  joy  he  found 
that  he  had  strength  to  lift  it,  though  with  his  burned 
hand  it  was  agony  to  do  so.  But  with  the  now 
good  prospect  of  finishing  his  work  successfully,  his 
spirits  rose.  He  grew  more  familiar  and  confident 
in  his  dangerous  position.  He  did  not  look  down 
from  his  giddy  height,  and  permitted  himself  to 
think  of  nothing  but  Annie.  Indeed,  in  his  strong 
excitement,  he  felt  that  it  would  not  be  a  bitter 


368  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

thing  to  die  thus  serving  her ;  and,  in  his  false  phi 
losophy,  hoped  this  brave  act  might  atone  for  the 
wrong  of  the  past. 

It  is  the  nature  of  noble,  generous  deeds  to  exalt  a 
man's  soul  so  that  he  can  fearlessly  face  death ;  when 
in  calm  moments,  or  times  of  sinful  weakness,  he 
would  shrink  back  appalled.  In  the  excitement  of  the 
hour,  and  under  the  inspiration  of  his  strong  human 
love,  Gregory  was  not  afraid  to  die,  though  life 
seemed,  with  its  new  possibilities,  sweeter  than  even 
before.  He  knew  that  his  strength  was  failing  fast 
— that  reaction  would  soon  set  in,  and  that  he  would 
be  helpless,  and  his  great  hope  was  that  he  could 
save  the  house  first. 

He  determined  therefore  not  to  waste  a  drop  of 
water,  and  make  this  one  pail  answer  if  possible.  He 
therefore  poured  it  slowly  out,  and  let  it  run  over 
the  burning  part.  The  continued  hissing  and  smoke 
proved  that  the  fire  had  penetrated  deeper  than  he 
^thought.  The  last  drop  was  gone,  and  still  the  place 
smoked.  A  little  more  was  absolutely  necessary. 

"  Will  my  strength  hold  out  ?  "  he  asked  himself 
in  almost  an  agony  of  doubt." 

Crawling  back  to  the  end  of  the  ridge,  he  again 
lowered  the  pail. 

"  Fill  it  again,"  he  cried. 

"  Can  you  stand  it  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Walton. 

"  I  must,  or  all  is  useless,"  was  his  answer. 

Again,  but  more  slowly  and  painfully,  he  pulled- 
the  water  up. 

Annie  wrung  her  hands  in  anguish  as  she  saw  in 


GREGORY  RETRIEVES  HIMSELF.  369 

the  red  glare  of  the  still  burning  factory  how  pale 
and  exhausted  he  was. 

But  he  once  more  managed  to  reach  the  point 
above  the  still  smouldering  spot,  and  caused  the 
water  to  trickle  down  upon  it.  By  the  time  he  had 
half  emptied  the  pail  the  smoke  ceased. 

•  After  a  moment  it  again  faintly  exuded,  but 
another  little  stream  of  water  quenched  the  fire 
utterly.  But  for  five  minutes  he  watched  the  place 
to  make  sure  that  there  was  not  a  lingering  spark, 
and  then  let  the  rest  of  the  water  flow  over  the 
place  to  saturate  it  completely. 

He  was  now  certain  that  the  house  was  saved. 
But  he  was  satisfied  from  his  sensations  that  he  had 
but  brief  time  in  which  to  save  himself.  Reaction 
was  fast  setting  in. 

He  untied  the  rope  from  his  waist,  and  let  pail 
and  all  roll  clattering  down  the  roof.  This  noise 
was  echoed  by  a  cry  of  alarm  from  those  below,  who 
feared  for  a  moment  that  he  was  falling.  They  all 
had  the  sickening  dread  which  is  felt  when  we  look 
at  one  in  great  peril,  and  yet  can  do  nothing  to 
help. 

At  first  Gregory  thought  that  he  would  lay  down 
upon  and  cling  to  the  ridge,  thus  gaining  strength 
by  a  little  rest.  But  he  soon  found  this  would  not 
answer.  His  overtaxed  .frame  was  becoming  nerve 
less,  and  his  only  hope  was  to  escape  at  once,  if  he 
ever  did.  In  trembling  weakness  he  crawled  back 
to  the  edge,  and  looked  over.  Annie  stepped  for- 
16* 


37O  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ward  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder  and  extended  her 
hands  as  if  to  catch  him. 

"  Stand  back,"  he  cried;  "if  I  fall,  I  will  kill 
you." 

"  I  will  not  stand  back,"  she  answered.  "  You 
shall  not  take  all  the  risk." 

But  her  father,  who  still  kept  his  presence  of 
mind  in  the  terrible  excitement  of  the  moment, 
forced  her  away,  and  saved  her  from  the  danger  of 
this  useless  sacrifice.  As  soon  as  she  could  do  no 
thing,  her  fortitude  vanished,  and  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

The  chief  point  of  difficulty  in  Gregory's  weak 
state  was  to  get  off  the  ridge  upon  the  lightning- 
rod  without  losing  his  hold  and  falling  at  once.  If 
he  could  turn  the  edge  and  commence  descending  in 
safety,  his  strength  might  hold  out  till  he  reached 
the  ladder  and  so  the  ground.  But  he  realized  the 
moment  of  supreme  peril,  and  hesitated. 

Then,  with  something  like  a  prayer  to  God  and  a 
wistful  look  at  Annie,  he  resolutely  swung  himself 
over.  His  hands  held  the  weight  of  his  body,  and 
he  commenced  the  descent.  Annie's  glad  cry  once 
more  encouraged  him.  He  gained  the  ladder  and 
descended  till  not  far  from  the  ground. 

Suddenly  everything  turned  black  before  his  eyes, 
and  he  fell. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CHANGES  IN  GREGORY. 

TXTHEN  Gregory  became  conscious,  he  was  lying 
on  the  ground  with  his  head  in  Miss  Eulie's 
lap,  and  Annie  was  bending  over  him  with  a  small 
flask.  She  again  gave  him  a  teaspoonful  of  brandy, 
and  after  a  moment  he  lifted  himself  up,  and  passing 
his  hand  across  his  brow,  looked  around. 

"  You  are  not  hurt.  Oh,  please  say  you  are  not 
hurt,"  she  exclaimed,  taking  his  hand. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment,  and  then  it  all  came 
back  to  him,  and  he  smiled  and  said  : 

"  Not  much,  I  think  ;  and  if  I  am,  it  does  not  sig 
nify.  You've  helped  me  on  my  feet  once  or  twice 
before.  Now  see  if  you  can't  again  ;  "  and  he  at 
tempted  to  rise. 

As  Daddy  Tuggar  had  intimated,  there  was 
plenty  of  muscle  in  Annie's  round  arms,  and  she 
almost  lifted  him  up,  but  he  stood  unsteadily.  Mr. 
Walton  gave  him  his  arm  on  one  side  and  Annie  on 
the  other,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  was  on  the  sofa 
in  the  sitting-room,  where  soon  a  fire  was  kindled. 
Zibbie  was  told  to  make  coffee,  and  provide  some 
thing  more  substantial. 

They  were  all  profuse  in  expressions  of  gratitude, 


372 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


in  praises  of  his  heroism,  but  he  waved  the  whole 
matter  off  by  saying : 

"  Think  of  me  as  well  as  you  can,  for  heaven 
knows  I  have  need  to  retrieve  my  character.  But 
please  do  not  speak  as  if  I  had  done  more  than  I 
ought.  For  a  young  man  to  stand  idly  by,  and  see 
the  home  of  his  childhood,  the  place  where  he  had 
received  the  perfection  of  hospitality,  destroyed, 
would  be  simply  base.  If  I  had  not  been  reduced 
by  months  of  ill-health,  the  thing  would  not  have 
been  difficult  at  all.  But  you,  Miss  Walton,  dis 
played  the  real  heroism  in  the  case,  when  you  stood 
beneath  with  your  arms  out  to  catch  me.  I  took  a 
risk,  but  you  took  the  certainty  of  destruction  if  I 
had  fallen.  Still,"  he  added,  with  a  humorous  look  as 
if  in  jest,  though  he  was  only  too  sincere,  "  the  pros 
pect  was  so  inviting  that  I  would  have  liked  to  have 
fallen  a  little  way." 

"  And  so  you  did,"  cried  innocent  Johnnie  eager 
ly.  "  You  fell  ever  so  far,  and  Aunt  Annie  caught 
you." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Gregory,  rising.  "Is  this 
true  ?  And  are  you  not  hurt  E" 

"  That's  the  way  with  children,"  said  Annie,  with 
heightened  color  and  a  reproachful  look  at  the  boy, 
who  in  the  excitement  of  the  time  was  permitted  to 
stay  up  for  an  hour  or  more ;  "  they  let  everything 
all  out.  No,  I'm  not  hurt  a  bit.  You  didn't  fall 
very  far.  I'm  so  thankful  that  your  strength  did 
not  give  out  till  you  almost  reached  the  ground. 
Oh  dear !  I  shudder  to  think  of  what  might  have 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY. 


373 


happened.  Do  you  know  that  I  thought,  with  a 
thrill  of  superstitious  dread,  of  your  chestnut-burr 
omen,  when  you  stained  my  hand  with  your  blood. 
If  you  had  fallen — if —  "  and  she  put  her  hand  over 
her'eyes  to  hide  the  dreadful  vision  her  imagination 
presented.  "  If  anything  had  happened,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  my  hands  would  have  been  stained,  in  that 
they  had  not  held  you  back." 

"What  a  tender,  innocent  conscience  you  have  !  " 
he  replied,  looking  fondly  at  her.  "  I  confess  I'd 
rather  be  here  listening  to  you  than  somewhere 
else." 

She  gave  him  a  troubled,  startled  look.  To  her, 
that  "  somewhere  else  "  had  a  sad  and  terrible  mean 
ing.  She  sat  near  him,  and  could  not  help  saying  in 
a  low,  earnest  tone : 

'*  Mr.  Gregory,  you  can't  tell  how  I  wish  you 
were  a  Christian." 

"  I,  too,  wish  I  were,"  he  answered  sadly  ;  "  but  I 
am  not,  as  you  know  well.  Thanks  to  your  influence, 
I  hope  to  be  one,  I  shall  try  to  be  one.  But  I  will 
deceive  neither  myself  nor  you.  As  yet  the  way  of 
life  is  utterly  dark.  You  have  done  much  for  me 
though,  for  you  have  convinced  me  of  the  reality 
and  value  of  your  faith." 

"  How  could  you,  how  could  you  take  such  a  risk 
without —  "  She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  which 
was  plain  enough  in  its  meaning,  however. 

On  the  impulse  of  the-  moment,  Gregory  was 
about  to  reply  indiscreetly — in  a  way  that  would  have 
revealed  more  of  his  feelings  toward  her  than  he 


374 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


knew  would  be  wise  at  the  time.  But  just  then 
Hannah  came  in  with  the  lunch,  and  the  attention 
of  the  others,  who  had  been  talking  eagerly  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  was  directed  toward  them. 
He  checked  some  rash  words  as  they  lose  to  his  lips, 
and  Annie,  suspecting  nothing  of  the  wealth  of  love 
that  he  already  was  lavishing  upon  her,  rose  with 
alacrity,  glad  to  serve  one  who  had  just  served  her  so 
well.  The  generous  coffee  and  the  dainty  lunch, 
combined  with  feelings  to  which  he  had  long  been  a 
stranger,  revived  Gregory  greatly,  and  he  sprang  up 
and  walked  the  room,  declaring  that  with  the  excep 
tion  of  his  burned  hand,  which  had  been  carefully 
dressed,  he  felt  better  than  he  had  for  a  long 
time. 

"  I'm  so  thankful,"  said  Annie,  with  glistening 
eyes. 

"  We  all  have  cause  for  thankfulness,"  said  Mr. 
Walton  with  fervor.  "  Our  kind  Father  in  heaven 
has  dealt  with  us  all  in  tender  mercy.  Home,  and 
more  precious  life,  have  been  spared.  Before  we 
again  seek  a  little  rest,  let  us  remember  all  his  good 
ness  ;  "  and  he  led  them  in  such  simple,  fervent  prayer, 
that  Gregory's  reviving  spiritual  nature  was  still  more 
powerfully  quickened^It  seemed  to  him  then  the 
Divine*  Father  did  care  for  his  earthly  children,  and 
that  more  than  human  strength  had  carried  him 
through  his  perilous  ordeal. 

The  effect  of  the  prayer  was  heightened  by  Mr. 
Walton  saying,  after  he  rose  from  his  knees : 

11  Annie,  we  must  see  that  none  of  our  poor  neigh- 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  375 

bors  lack  for  anything,  now  that  their  employment 
has  so  suddenly  been  taken  away." 

That  is  acceptable  devotion  to  God  which  leads 
to  practical,  active  charity  toward  men,  and  the  most 
unbelieving  are  won  by  such  a  religion. 

Annie  noticed  with  some  anxiety  that  her  father's 
voice  was  very  hoarse,  and  that  he  put  his  hand  upon 
his  chest  several  times,  and  she  expressed  the  fear 
that  the  exposure  would  greatly,  add  to  his  cold. 
He  treated  the  matter  lightly,  and  would  do  nothing 
more  that  evening  than  take  some  simple  remedies. 

When  Gregory  bade  them  good-night,  Annie  fol 
lowed  him  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  giving  his 
hand  one  of  her  warm  grasps,  said  : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  I  can't  help  feeling  that  your 
mother  knows  what  you  have  done  to-night,  and 
that  you  have  added  to  her  happiness  even  in 
heaven." 

Tears  started  to  his  eyes.  He  did  not  trust 
himself  to  answer,  but,  with  a  strong  answering  pres 
sure,  hastened  to  his  room  happier  than  he  had  been 
in  all  his  past. 

It  was  late  the  next  morning  when  they  assem 
bled  at  the  breakfast  table,  and  they  noted  with  pain 
that  Mr.  Walton  did  not  appear  at  all  welj,  though 
he  made  great  effort  to  keep  up.  He  was  very 
hoarse,  and  complained  of  a  tightness  in  his  chest. 

"  Now,  father,"  said  Annie,  "you  must  stay  in 
the  house,  and  let  me  nurse  you." 

"  I'm  very  willing  to  submit,"  he  replied,  "  and 
hope  I  will  need  no  other  physician."  But  he  was 


376  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

feverish  all  day.  His  indisposition  did  not  yield  to 
ordinary  remedies.  Still,  more  than  a  little  natural 
solicitude,  no  anxiety  was  felt. 

Gregory  was  a  different  man.      Even  his  sincere, 
human  love  for  so  worthy  an  object  had  lifted  him 
out  of  the  miserable  depths  into  which  he  had  been 
sinking.     It  had  filled  his  heart  with  pure  longings, 
and  made  him  capable  of  noble  deeds. 

As  a  general  thing  a  woman  inspires  a  love  in 
accordance  with  her  own  character.  Of  course  we 
recognize  the  fact  that  there  are  men  with  natures 
so  coarse  that  they  are  little  better  than  animals. 
These  men  may  have  a  passing  passion  for  any  pretty 
woman,  but  the  holy  word  love  should  not  be  used 
in  such  connection.  But  of  men — of  those  possess 
ing  true  manhood,  even  in  humblest  station — the 
above  assertion  I  think  will' be  found  true.  The 
woman  who  gains  the  boundless  power  which  the 
undivided  homage  of  an  honest  heart  confers,  will 
develop  in  his  breast,  and  quicken  into  life,  traits 
and  feelings  corresponding  to  her  own.  If  the  great 
men  of  the  world  have  generally  had  good  mothers, 
so  as  a  parallel  fact  will  it  be  found  that  the  strong, 
useful,  successful  men — men  who  sustain  themselves, 
and  more^  than  fulfil  the  promise  of  their  youth — 
have  been  supplemented  and  continually  inspired  to 
better  things  by  the  ennobling  companionship  of  a 
true  woman. 

Good-breeding,  the  ordinary  restraints  of  self- 
respect,  and  fear  of  the  world's  adverse  opinion, 
greatly  reduce  the  outward  diversities  of  society. 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  377 

Well-bred  men  and  women  act  and  appear  very 
much  alike  in  the  public  eye.  But  there  is  an  inner 
life,  a  real  character,  upon  which  happiness  here 
and  heaven  hereafter  depend,  which  results  largely 
from  that  tie  and  intimacy  that  is  closest  of  all.  A 
woman  of  the  world  tends  to  make  even 'her  Chris 
tian  husband  worldly,  and  of  course  the  reverse  is 
true.  A  shallow,  frivolous  girl,  having  faith  in  little 
else  save  her  pretty  face  and  dress-makers'  art,  may 
unfortunately  inspire  a  good,  talented  man,  who 
imagines  her  to  possess  all  that  the  poets  have  por 
trayed  in  woman,  with  a  true  and  strong  affection, 
but  she  will  disappoint  and  dwarf  him,  and  be  a  mill 
stone  around  his  neck.  She  will  cease  to  be  his  com 
panion.  She  may  be-  thankful  if,  in  his  heart,  he 
does  not  learn  to  despise  her,  though  a  man  can 
scarcely  do  this  and  be  guiltness  toward  the  mother 
of  his  children. 

What  must  be  the  daily  influence  on  a  man  who 
sees  in  his  closest  friend,  to  whom  he  is  joined  for 
life,  a  passion  for  the  public  gaze,  a  boundless  faith 
in  externals,  a  complete  devotion  to  artificial  en 
hancing  of  ordinary  and  passtf  charms,  combined  with 
contemptuous  neglect  of  graces  of  mind  and  heart 
which  alone  can  keep  the  love  which  outward  appear 
ance  may  at  first  have  won  in  part.  Mere  dress 
and  beauty  are  very  well  to  skirmish  with  during  first 
approaches ;  but  if  a  woman  wishes  to  hold  the  con 
quered  province  of  a  man's  heart,  and  receive  from 
it  rich  revenues  of  love  and  honor,  she  must  possess 
some  queenly  traits  akin  to  Divine  royalty,  other- 


378  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

* 

wise   she  only  overruns  the  heart  she  might  have 
ruled,  and  leaves  it  a  blighted  waste. 

As  we  have  seen,  Annie's  actual  character  re 
buked  and  humiliated  the  evil-minded  Gregory  from 
the  first.  He  could  not  rest  in  her  presence.  To 
relieve  himself  from  self-condemnation,  he  must  prove 
her  goodness  a  sham  or  an  accident — mere  chance 
exemption  from  temptation.  Her  safety  and  happy 
influence  did  not  depend  upon  good  resolutions,  wise 
policy,  and  careful  instruction,  but  upon  her  real 
possession  of  a  character  that  had  bqen  formed  long 
before,  and  which  met  and  foiled  him  at  every  point. 
Lacking  this,  though  a  well-meaning,  good  girl  in  the 
main,  she  would  have  been  a  plaything  in  the  hands 
of  such  a  man.  Her  absolute  truth  and  crystal 
purity  of  principle  encased  her  in  heaven's  armor,  and 
neither  he  nor  any  evil-disposed  person  could  harm 
her.  She  would  not  listen  to  the  first  insidious  sug 
gestion  of  the  tempter.  Thus,  the  man  who  expect 
ed  to  go  away  despising,  now  honored,  reverenced, 
loved  her,  and  through  her  strong  but  gentle  minis 
try  had  turned  his  back  on  evil,  and  was  struggling 
to  escape  its  degrading  bondage. 
J  It  will  ever  be  true  that  we  are  strong  ourselves 
and  useful  to  others  only  in  proportion  to  what  God 
— not  the  world — sees  we  really  are.  Specious  pre 
tence  will  fail — the  mask  will  drop,  and  those  bad  at 
heart  will  one  day  undo  all  their  seeming  good. 

But  Gregory  was  making  a  grave  mistake.  In 
the  absorption  of  his  human  love,  he  forgot  the 
Divine  love.  He  was  practically  looking  to  Annie 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY. 


379 


for  his  salvation,  instead  of  Him  who  was  using  her 
as  an  instrument. 

In  the  co-working  of  God  and  man  for  the  rescue 
of  the  lost,  that  Christian  best  succeeds  who  best 
obeys  orders.  But  there  comes  a  time  when  his 
delegated  part  ceases,  and  for  pardon,  absolution, 
and  the  power  to  remain  loyal,  he  must  point  di 
rectly  to  the  Throne  and  stand  reverently  aside. 

That  time  had  come  in  Annie's  effort.  She  felt 
it,  but  Gregory  did  not.  She  knew  that  she  could 
not  make  him  a  Christian,  though  she  might,  through 
God's  blessing  upon  her  influence,  awaken  and  inspire 
the  honest  effort  to  be  one.  As  at  first  with  phys 
ical,  so  now  only  God  could  give  the  breath  of  spir 
itual  life. 

Therefore  on  Tuesday  and  Wednesday  following 
the  fire,  Annie  did  not  seek  theological  or  religious 
conversation  with  him,  but  only  aimed  by  sympathy 
and  kindness  to  confirm  impressions  already  made. 
In  the  mean  time  she  prayed  with  all  her  heart  that 
the  Divine  spirit  would  apply  the  truth  and  do  the 
work  which  He  alone  could  accomplish. 
L~  God  ever  hears  such  prayers,  but  answers  them 
in  a  way  and  time  that  he  knows  to  be  best. 

Gregory  was  right  in  thinking  that  such  a  woman 
as  Annie  could  help  him  to  an  extent  hard  to  esti- 
-  mate,  but  fatally  wrong  in  looking  to  her  alone. 
The  kind  Father,  who  regards  the  well-being  of  his 
children  for  eternity  rather  than  the  moments  of 
time,  must  effectually  cure  him  of  this  error. 

But  those  two  days  were  memorable  ones  to  him. 


380  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

He  was  in  Beulah,  the  border -land  of  Paradise 
The  cold  and  stormy  weather  shut  them  all  in  the 
house,  and  that  meant  to  him  Annie's  society.  He 
was  seldom  alone  with  her.  He  noted  with  pain 
that  her  manner  was  too  frank  and  kindly,  too  free 
from  all  consciousness,  to  indicate  anything  more 
than  the  friendship  she  had  promised  ;  but  not  know 
ing  how  her  heart  was  preoccupied,  he  hoped  that 
the  awakening  of  deeper  feelings  was  only  a  question 
of  time.  His  present  peace  and  rest  were  so  blessed, 
her  presence  so  satisfying,  and  his  progress  in  her 
favor  so  apparent  as  he  revealed  his  better  nature, 
that  he  was  content  to  call  his  love  friendship  until 
he  saw  her  friendship  turning  into  love. 

Had  not  Annie  expected  Hunting  every  day  she 
would  have  told  Gregory  all  about  her  relation  with 
him,  but  now  she  determined  that  she  would  bring 
them  together  under  the  same  roof,  and  not  let  them 
separate  till  she  had  banished  every  trace  of  their 
difficulty.  A  partial  reconciliation  might  result  in 
future  coolness  and  estrangement.  This  she  would 
regard  as  a  misfortune,  even  did  it  have  no  unfa 
vorable  influence  on  Gregory,  for  he  now  proved 
himself  the  best  of  company.  Indeed,  they  both 
seemed  to  have  a  remarkable  gift  for  entertaining 
each  other. 

While  Wednesday  did  not  find  Mr.  Walton 
seriously  ill  apparently,  he  was  still  far  from  being 
well.  He  employed  himself  with  his  papers,  read 
ing,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  Gregory's  conversation 
very  much. 


CHANGES  IN  GREGORY.  381 


"'  He  now  grows  very  like  his  father,  and  reminds 
me  constantly  of  him,"  he  said  more  than  once  to 
Annie. 

Mr.  Walton's  indisposition  was  evidently  not 
trivial.  There  was  a  soreness  about  the  lungs  that 
made  it  painful  for  him  to  talk  much,  and  he  had  a 
severe,  racking  cough.  They  were  all  solicitude  in 
his  behalf.  The  family  physician  had  been  called, 
and  it  was  hoped  that  a  few  days  of  care  would 
remove  his  cold. 

As  he  sat  in  his  comfortable  arm-chair  by  the  fire 
he  would  smilingly  say  he  "  was  having  such  a  good 
time  and  so  much  petting  that  he  did  not  intend  to 
get  well  very  soon." 

Though  the  burn  on  Gregory's  hand  was  quite 
painful,  and  both  were  bruised  and  cut  from  climb 
ing,  he  did  not  regret:  the  suffering,  since  it  also 
secured  from  Annie  some  of  the  attention  she  gave 
her  father. 

V/ednesday  afternoon  was  quite  pleasant,  and 
Gregory  went  out  for  a  walk.  He  did  not  return 
till  quite  late,  and,  coming  down  to  supper,  found 
a  letter  by  his  plate,  which  clouded  his  face  in 
stantly. 

Annie  was  radiant,  for  the  same  mail  brought  her 
one  from  Hunting,  stating  that  he  might  be  expected 
any  day  now.  As  she  saw  Gregory's  fa£e  darken, 
she  said : 

"  I  fear  your  letter  has  brought  you  unpleasant 
news." 

"  It  has,"  he  replied.     "  Mr.  Burnett,  the  senior 


382  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

partner,  is  quite  ill,  and  it  is  necessary  that  I  return 
immediately." 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said,  with  such  hearty  em 
phasis  that  he  looked  at  her  earnestly  and  said  : 

"  Are  you  really?", 

"You  shouldn't  ask  such  a  question,"  she  an 
swered  reproachfully. 

"  Why,  Miss  Walton,  I've  made  a  very  long 
visit." 

"  So  much  has  happened  that  it  does  seem  a 
long  time  since  you  came.  But  I  wish  it  were  to 
be  longer  before  you  left  us.  We  shall  miss  you 
exceedingly.  Besides,"  she  added,  with  rising  color, 
•'  I  have  a  special  reason  for  wishing  you  to  stay  a 
little  longer." 

His  color  rose  instantly  also  ;  and  she  puzzled 
him,  while  he  perplexed  her. 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Gregory's  visit  has  tau&nt  him," 
said  Mr.  Walton  kindly,  "that  he  has  not  lost  his 
former  home  through  our  occupation,  and  th..t  he 
can  run  up  to  the  old  place  whenever  he  finds 
opportunity." 

"I  can  say  sincerely,"  he  responded,  "that  I 
have  enjoyed  the  perfection  of  hospitality  ;  "  adding, 
in  a  low  tone  and  with  a  quick  remorseful  look  at 
Annie,  "  though  little  deserving  it." 

"You 'have  richly  repaid  us,"  said  Mr.  Walton 
heartily.  "  It  would  be  very  hard  for  me  at  my 
years  to  have  had  to  seek  a  new  home.  I  have 
become  wedded  to  this  old  place  with  my  feelings 
and  fancies,  and  the  old,  you  know,  dislike  change. 


CHANGES  IN  GREGOR  Yf  383 

I  only  wish  to  make  one  more,  then  rest  will  be  com 
plete." 

"  Now,  father,"  said  Annie  with  glistening  eyes, 
"  you  must  not  talk  that  way.  You  know  well  that 
we  cannot  spare  you  even  to  go  to  heaven." 

"  Well,  my  child,"  answered  he  fondly.  "  I  am 
content  to  leave  that  in  our  best  Friend's  hands. 
But  I  cannot  say,"  he  added  with  a  touch  of  humor, 
'*  that  it's  a  heavy  cross  to  stay  here  with  you."  . 

"  Would  that  such  a  cross  were  imposed  upon 
me,"  echoed  Gregory  with  sudden  devoutness. 
"  Miss  Walton,  did  not  my  business  imperatively 
demand  my  presence,  I  would  break  anything  save 
my  neck,  in  order  to  be  an  invalid  on  your  hands. 
If  one  could  only  find  a  decent  excuse  to  stay  in 
this  beau  ideal  of  a  home  a  little  longer — 

"  Come,"  cried  Annie,  half  vexed.  '  "A  truce  to 
this  style  of  remark.  I  think  it's  verging  toward  the 
sentimental,  and  I'm  painfully  matter-of-fact.  Fa 
ther,  you  must  not  think  of  going  to  heaven  yet,  and 
I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  about  it.  Mr.  Gregory 
can  break  his  little  finger,  if  he  likes,  so  we  may  keep 
him  longer.  But  do  let  us  all  be  sensible,  and  not 
think  of  anything  sad  till  it  comes.  Why  should 
we  ?  Mr.  Gregory  surely  can  find  time  to  run  up  and 
see  us,  if  he  wishes,  and  I  think  he  will." 

Before  he  could  reply,  an  anxious .  remark  from 
little  Susie  enabled  them  to  leave  the  table  in  midst 
of  one  of  those  laughs  that  banish  all  embarrassment. 

"  But   we'll   be  burned  up  if  Mr.  Gregory  goes 

*         »> 
away. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

I  LEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE. 

T/"NOWING  that  it  was  to  be  Gregory's  last  even- 
ing  with  them,  Annie  determined  it  should  be 
full  of  pleasant  memories.  She  sang  with  him,  and 
did  anything  he  asked.  Her  heart  overflowed  toward 
him  in  a  genial  and  almost  sisterly  regard,  but  his 
most  careful  analysis  could  find  no  trace  even  of  the 
inception  of  warmer  feelings.  She  evidently  had  a 
strong  and  growing  liking  for  him,. but  nothing  more, 
and  she  clearly  felt  the  greatest  interest  in  his  effort 
to  become  a  man  of  Christian  principles.  This  fact 
became  his  main  hope.  Her  passion  to  save  seemed 
so  strong  that  he  trusted  she  might  be  approached 
even  thus  early  upon  that  side. 

He  felt  that  he  must  speak — must  get  some 
definite  hope  for  the  future  before  he  went  away. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  fairly  bring  his  great 
nead  as  a  motive  to  bear  upon  her.  Her  whole 
course  encouraged  him  to  do  this,  for  she  had 
responded  to  every  such  appeal.  Still  with  fear  and 
trembling  he  admitted  that  he  was  about  to  ask  for 
more  now  than  ever  before. 

But  he  felt  that  he  must  speak.  He  had  no  hope 
that  he  could  ever  be  more  than  his  wretched  self 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  385 

without  her.  He  would  ask  nothing  definite — only 
encouragement  that  if  he  could  make  himself  worthy 
of  her,  she  would  give  him  a  chance  to  win  her  love. 
In  her  almost  sisterly  frankness  it  seemed  that  the 
idea  of  loving  him  had  never  occurred  to  her,  and 
would  not  after  he  had  gone.  The  thought  of 
leaving  her  heart  all  disengaged,  for  some  other  to 
come  and  make  a  stronger  impression,  was  torture. 
He  never  could  be  satisfied  with  the  closest  friend 
ship,  therefore  he  must  plainly  seek  a.  dearer  tie, 
even  though  for  a  time  their  frank,  pleasant  relations 
were  disturbed.  He  resolved  to  take  no  denial,  but 
give  fair  warning,  before  it  was  too  late,  that  he  was 
laying  siege  to  her  heart.  He  dreaded  that  attitude 
of  mind  upon  her  part  which  enables  a  woman  to 
say  to  some  men  : 

"  I  could  be  your  sister,  but  never  your  wife." 
So  he  said,  before  they  separated  for  the  night : 
"  Miss  Walton,  I'm  going  to   snatch  a  few  more 
hours  from  the  hurry  and  grind  of  business,  and  will 
not  return  to  town  till  to-morrow  afternoon.     Won't 
you  take  one  more  ramble  with  me  in   the  morn 
ing?" 

"  With  pleasure,"  she  replied  promptly.  "  I  will 
devote  myself  to  you  to-morrow,  and  make  you 
without  excuse  for  not  coming  again." 

He  flushed  with  pleasure  at  her  reply,  but  said 
quickly : 

"  By  the  way,  that  reminds  me.     Won't  you  tell 
me  what  your  *  special  reason  '  was  for  wishing  me  to 
stay  a  little  longer  ?  " 
17 


386  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

It  was  her  turn  to  blush  now,  which  she  did  in  a 
way  that  puzzled  him.  She  answered  hesitatingly : 

"Well,  I  think  I'll  tell. you  to-morrow." 

"  Good  night,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  feelingly  retain 
ing  Gregory's  hand  when  he  came  to  his  chair 
"  We  are  coming  to  treat  you  almost  as  one"  of  the 
family.  Indeed,  it  seems  hard  to  treat  you  in  any 
other  way  now,  especially  in  this  your  old  home, 
now  doubly  yours  since  you  saved  it  from  destruc 
tion.  Every  day  you  remind  me  more  of  my  dear  old 
friend.  For  some  reason  he  has  seemed  very  near 
me  of  late.  If  it  should  be  my  lot  to  see  your 
sainted  parents  before  you  do,  as  it  probably  will,  I 
believe  it  will  be  in  my  power  to  add  even  to  their 
heavenly  joys  by  telling  them  of  your  present  'pros 
pects.  Good  night,  and  may  the  blessing  of  your 
father's  and  mother's  God  rest  upon  you." 

Tears  sprang  into  the  young  man's  eyes,  and 
with  a  strong  responsive  pressure  of  Mr.  Walton's 
hand,  he  hastened  to  his  room,  to  hide  what  was 
not  weakness. 

That  was  the  last  time  he  saw  his  father's  friend. 

Annie's  eyes  glistened  as  she  looked  after  him, 
and  throwing  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck, 
whispered  : 

"  God  did  send  him  here  I  now  truly  believe. 
We  have  not  conspired  and  prayed  in  vain." 

Mr.  Walton  fondly  stroked  his  daughter's  brown 
hair,  and  said,  "  You  are  right,  Annie  ;  but  he  will 
be  a  gem  in  your  crown  of  rejoicing.  I  praise  God 
for  you,  my  child.  You  have  acted  very  wisely,  very 


PLEIDING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  387 

womanly,  as  your  mother  would,  in  this  matter. 
He  was  a  bad  man  when  he  first  came  here,  and 
if  I  did  not  know  you  so  well,  I  would  not  have 
trusted  you  with  him  as  I  have.  I  believe  God  has 
begun  a  good  work  in  his  soul,  which  he  will  surely 
finish.  Be  as  faithful  through  life,  and  you  may  lead 
many  more  out  of  darkness." 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Annie  tenderly,  "  this  whole 
day,  with  Charles's  good  letter,  and  crowned  with 
these  precious  words  from  you,  seems  like  a  benedic 
tion.  May  we  have  many  more  such." 

"  May  God's  will  be  done,"  said  the  riper  saint, 
with  eyes  turned  homeward. 

Thus  in  hope,  peace,  and  gladness  the  day  ended 
for  all. 

"Ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow." 

To  Gregory's  unfeigned  sorrow  Mr.  Walton  was 
not  well  enough  to  appear  at  the  breakfast  table  the 
following  morning.  Annie  was  flitting  in  and  out 
with  a  grave  and  troubled  face.  But  by  ten  o'clock 
,he  seemed  better  and  fell  asleep.  Leaving  Miss 
Eulie  watching  beside  him,  she  came  and  said : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gregory,  I  can  keep  my  promise  in 
part,  and  take  a  short  walk  with  you.  You  can  well 
understand  why  I  cannot  be  away  long." 

"  Please  do  not  feel  that  you  must  go,"  he  said. 
"  However  great  the  disappointment,  I  could  not  ask 
you  to  leave  your  father  if  he  needs  you." 

4<  You  may  rest  assured  that  nothing  would  tempt 
me  from  father  if  he  needed  me.  But  I  think  the 
worst  is  over  now.  He  is  sleeping  quietly.  I  can 


388  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

trust  Auntie  even  better  than  myself.  Besides,  I 
want  to  go.  I  need  the  fresh  air,  ancf  I  wish  to  see 
more  of  you  before  you  leave  us." 

"  Your  kindness,  Miss  Walton,  comes  to  me  like 
spring  after  winter.  I  shall  wait  for  you  on.  the 
piazza." 

They  went  down  across  the  lawn  through  the 
garden.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  though  occa 
sionally  obscured  with  clouds. 

"  How  beautiful  everything  is,"  said  Annie,  "  even 
now,  when  the  leaves  are  half  off  the  trees  and  fall 
ing  fast.  At  any  season  the  moment  I  get  out  of 
doors  I  feel  new  life  and  hope." 

"  What  nature  does  for  you,  Miss  Annie,  you 
seem  to  do  for  others.  I  feel  '  new  life  and  hope ' 
the  moment  I  am  with  you." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly,  for  she  did  not  quite 
like  his  tone  and  manner.  But  she  only  said : 

"  You  must  believe,  as  I  do,  in  a  power  behind 
nature.  What  little  I  have  done  for  you  I  have 
been  enabled  to  do  by  One  who  alone  can  complete 
the  work." 

"  But  even  you  believe  he  works  through  human 
agencies." 

"  Yes,  up  to  a  certain  point." 

"  But  who  can  say  where  that  point  is  in  any 
experience?  Miss  Walton,"  he  continued  in  grave 
earnestness,  stopping  and  pointing  to  the  rustic  seat 
where,  on  the  previous  Sabbath,  he  had  revealed  to 
her  his  evil  life,  "  that  place  is  sacred  to  me.  No 
hallowed  spot  of  earth  to  which  pilgrimages  are 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  389 

made  can  compare  with  it.  You  know  that  in  some 
places  in  Europe  they  raise  a  rude  cross  by  the  road 
side  where  a  man  has  been  murdered.  Should  there 
not  be  a  monument  where  one  was  given  life?  If  I 
owned  this  place  I  would  put  one  there,  if  I  could 
think  of  something  appropriate. 

"  I'll  put  one  there,  that  I'm  sure  you'll  like," 
said  she  with  animation.  "  I  will  plant  an  evergreen 
tree  with  my  own  hands,  and  it  shall  be  a  pledge 
between  us  that  I  will  pray  faithfully,  and  that  you 
will  pray  and  strive  to  make  the  hope  that  came  to 
you  there,  like  the  tree,  unfading.  Moreover,  next 
spring  I  will  sow  the  seeds  of  my  immortelle  flowers 
around  it,  and  so  the  place  will  be  beautifully  em 
blematic." 

His  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure,  for  he  knew 
she  would  do  as  she  said,  and  thus  he  would  be 
kept  before  her  mind. 

"  You  would  make  the  best  of  missionaries,"  he 
said,  "  for  you  would  make  religion  attractive  to  the 
most  besotted  of  heathen." 

As  they  resumed  their  walk,  he  said  in  a  low, 
meaning  tone :  * 

"  Do  you  remember  old  Daddy  Tuggar's  words? 
'You  could  take  the  wickedest  man  living  straight 
to  heaven  if  you'd  stay  right  by  him.'  " 

"  But  he  was  wrong,"  she  replied. 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  differ  from  you,  and  agree  with 
him.  Miss  Walton,  I've  been  in  your  society  scarcely 
three  weeks.  You  know  what  I  was  when  I  came. 
I  make  no  great  claims  now,  but  surely  if  tendencies, 


390  onwiXG  A  CHESTNUT  ATA-A-. 

wishes,  purposes  count  for  anything,  I  am  very  dif- 
iVi  i-nt.  How  can  you  argue  me  out  of  the  conscious- 
iirss  t  h.it  I  owe  it  all  to  you  ?  " 

"You  will  one  day  understand,"  she  answered 
earnestly,  "  that  God  has  helped  us  both,  and  how 
futile  my  efforts  would  have  luvn  without  such  help. 
I'nt,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  continued,  looking  frankly 
into  his  ih i shed  face  (for  she  was  beginning  to  sus 
pect-now  sonu-thiiu;-  of  his  drift,  and  instinctively 
.'.oiiL'ht  to  ward  off  words  which  might  disturb  their 
pKas.mt  relations),  "I  do  not  intend  to  give  you  up 
from  this  day  forth.  As  our  quaint  old  friend  sug 
gests,  I  do  mean  to  stand  right  by  you  as  far  as  cir 
cumstances  will  allow  me.  I  recognize  how  isolated 
and  lonely  you  are,.and  I  feel  almost  a  sisters  interest 
in  you." 

"  You  emphasize  the  word  *  sister.'  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  more  than  satisfied.  Believe  me  I  am 
very  grateful  that  you  can  so  speak.  But  suppose 
ilu-  frankness  I  promised  compels  me  to  say  that  it 
does  not,  and  never  can  satisfy?" 

"  Tlu -n  1  will  think  you  very  unreasonable.  You 
have  no  right  to  ask  more  than  onj?  has  the  power  to 
give,"  she  answered,  with  a  look  and  manner  that 
were  full  of  pain.  "  But  surely,  Mr.  Gregory,  we  do 
not  understand  each  other." 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand  me,"  he  ex 
claimed  eatnestly.  "  If  you  had  the  vanity  and 
worldly  experience  of  most  women,  you  would  have 
known  before  this  that  I  love  you*" 

Tears  sprang  into  Annie's  eyes,  and  for  a  few 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE. 


39* 


moments  she  walked  on  in  utter  silence.  This  was 
so  different  an  ending  from  what  she  expected.  She 
felt  that  she  m'ust  be  very  careful  or  she  would  undo 
all  she  had  attempted.  She  now  dreaded  utter  fail 
ure,  utter  estrangement,  and  how  to  avoid  these  was 
her  chief  thought. 

They  had  reached  the  cedar  thicket  where  they 
had  first  met,  and  she  sat  down  upon  the  rock  where 
she  had  found  Gregory.  Her  whole  aim  was  to  end 
this  unfortunate  matter  so  they  might  still  continue 
friends.  And  yet  the  task  seemed  well-nigh  impos 
sible,  for  if  he  felt  as  he  said,  how  could  she  tell  him 
about  Hunting  without  increasing  their  alienation. 
But  her  impression  was  strong  that  he  was  acting 
under  an  exaggerated  sense  of  her  services  and  be 
lief  in  the  error  that  she  was  essential  to  the  suc 
cess  of  his  efforts  to  be  a  good  man.  Therefore  she 
tried  to  turn  the  matter  off  lightly  at  first  by  saying : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  are  the  most  grateful  man  I 
ever  heard  of.  You  need  not  think  you  must  reward 
my  slight  services  by  marrying  me." 

"  Now  you  greatly  wrong  me,"  he  answered. 
"  Did  I  not  say  I  loved  you  ?  How  deeply  and  truly 
you  can  never  know.  I  cannot  reward  you.  I  did 
not  dream  of  such  a  thing.  My  best  hope  was  that 
some  time  in  the  future,  wuen  by  long  and  patient 
effort  I  had  become  truly  a  man,  you  might  learn  to 
think  of  me  in  the  way  I  wish." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  full  of  trouble, 
"  has  my  manner  or  words  led  you  to  hope  this  ?  If 
so,  1  can  never  forgive  myself." 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  You  have  no  cause  for  self-reproaches,"  he  said 
earnestly.  "  Though  my  suit  should  ever  prove 
hopeless,  in  the  depths  of  my  heart  I  will  acquit  you 
of  all  blame.  You  have  been  what  you  promised — 
a  true  sisterly  friend,  nothing  more.  But  please  un 
derstand  me.  I  ask  nothing  now,  I  am  not  worthy. 
Perhaps  I  shall  never  be.  If  so,  I  will  not  bind  you 
to  me  with  even  a  gossamer  thread.  I  have  too 
deep  a  respect  for  you.  But  I  am  so  self-distrustful. 
I  know  my  weakness  better  than  you  can.  Still  I 
am  confident  that  if  you  could  '  reward  '  me,  and  give 
the  hope  that  you  would  crown  the  victory  with 
yourself,  I  could  do  anything.  In  loving  me,  you 
would  save  me." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  are  all  wrong.  I'm  only  an 
oar,  but  you  look  upon  me  as  the  life-boat  itself.  In 
that  you  persist  in  looking  to  me,  a  weak,  sinful 
creature,  instead  of  Him  who  alone  '  taketh  away  the 
sin  of  the  world,'  you  discourage  me  utterly/' 

"  I  will  look  to  Him,  but  I  want  you  to  lead  me 
to  him,  and  keep  me  at  his  side. 

"  1  can  do  that  just  as  well  as  your  friend." 

"  I  can  never  think  so.  I  shall  go  away  from  this 
place  utterly  disheartened,  unless  you  give  me  some 
hope,  no  matter  how  faint,  that  I  shall  not  have  to 
struggle  alone." 

She  sprang  up  quickly,  for  he  incensed  her,  while 
at  the  same  time  she  pitied  him.  She  could  not  un 
derstand  how  he  had  so  soon  learned  to  love  her 
"  deeply  and  truly."  It  rather  appeared  true  that 
he  had  formed  the  mistaken  opinion  that  she  was 


PLEADING  FOR   LIFE   AND  LOVE. 


393 


essential  to  his  success,  and  that  he  was  bent  upon 
bolstering  himself  up  in  his  weakness,  and  sought  to 
place  her  as  a  barrier  between  him  and  his  old  evil 
life ;  and  she  felt  that  he  might  need  some  whole 
some  truth  rather  than  tender  sympathy.  At  any 
rate  her  womanly  nature  took  offence  at  his  appa 
rent  motive,  as  she  understood  it — a  motive  that 
appeared  more  selfish  and  unworthy  every  moment. 
He  was  asking  what  he  had  no  right  to  expect  of  any 
one.  But  she  would  not  misunderstand  him,  and 
therefore  said  with  a  grave,  searching  look : 

"  Only  then  as  I  give  you  the  hope  you  ask  for, 
will  you  make  the  effort  you  have  promised  to 
make?  " 

"  Only  then  can  I  make  it,"  he  replied  in  some 
confusion.  "  Can  effort  of  any  kind  be  asked  of  one 
utterly  disabled  ?  " 

Sudden  fire  leaped  into  her  dark  eyes,  but  she 
said  with  dignity : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  disappoint  me  greatly.  You 
assume  a  weakness — a  disability — which  does  not 
and  cannot  exist  under  the  circumstances.  You  made 
me  promise,  but  now  impose  a  new  condition  which 
I  did  not  dream  of  at  the  time,  and  which  now  I  can 
not  accept.  You  are  asking  more  than  you  have  a 
right  to  ask.  However  imperfect  my  efforts  have 
been  in  your  behalf,  they  were  at  least  sincere  and 
unselfish,  and  I  was  beginning  to  have  a  warm  regard 
for  you  as  a  friend.  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  am 
most  anxious  that  we  should  remain  friends  as  be 
fore.  If  so,  this  kind  of  folly  must  cease  now  and 


394  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

forever.  I  have  no  right  to  listen  to  such  words  at 
all,  and  would  not  but  for  your  sake,  and  in  the  hope 
of  removing  from  your  mind  a  very  mistaken  and 
unworthy  idea.  You  are  entirely  wrong  in  thinking 
that  your  salvation  depends  solely  upon  me.  It 
cannot — it  ought  not.  It  rests  between  you  and 
God,  and  you  cannot  shift  the  responsibility.  I  am 
willing  to  do  all  you  can  ask  of  a  sister,  but  no  more. 
Do  you  think  I  have  no  needs,  no  weakness,  myself? 
In  a  husband  I  want  a  man  I  can  lean  upon  as  well 
as  help.  I  wish  to  marry  one  with  higher  moral 
character  than  I,  to  whom  I  can  look  up.  There  is 
the  widest  difference  in  the  world  between  giving 
help,  and  even  sincere  affection  to  those  who  win  it, 
and  giving  one's  self  away.  Simple  justice  requires 
that  my  happiness  and  feelings  be  considered  also. 
It  is  selfish  in  you  to  ask  of  me  this  useless  sacrifice 
of  myself." 

Annie's  quick,  passionate  nature  was  getting  the 
better  of  her.  It  seemed  in  a  certain  sense  dis 
loyalty  to  Hunting  to  have  listened  thus  long  to 
Gregory.  Moreover,  not  believing  in,  nor  under 
standing  the  latter's  love  for  her,  she  was  indignant 
that  he  should  seek  to  employ  her  as  a  sort  of  step 
ping  stone  into  heaven.  She  would  despise  the  man 
who  sought  her  merely  to  advance  his  earthly  in 
terests,  and  she  was  growing  honestly  angry  at  Greg 
ory,  who,  it  seemed,  wanted  her  only  as  a  guide  and 
staff  in  his  pilgrimage — justly  angry,  too,  if  she  were 
right. 

Gregory  became  very  pale  as  her  words  quivered 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE.  395 

in  his  heart  like  arrows,  but  in  the  consciousness  of 
a  true  and  unselfish  love,  he  looked  at  her  unfalter 
ingly  to  the  last,  and  said : 

"  In  justice  to  myself  I  might  again  urge  that 
you  misunderstand  me.  I  askecl  for  nothing  now, 
only  a  hope  for  the  future  based  on  what  I  possibly 
might  become.  But  as  you  say,  I  now  know  I  asked 
too  much — more  than  I  had  a  right  to.  You  can 
never  look  up  to  me,  and  with  a  sadness  you  will 
never  understand,  I  admit  myself  answered  finally. 
But  there  is  one  imputation  in  your  words  that  I 
cannot  rest  under.  I  solemnly  assert  before  God 
and  in  the  name  of  my  mother,  that  my  love  for  you 
is  as  strong,  pure,  and  unselfish  as  can  exist  in  my 
half-wrecked  nature." 

"  Oh  dear,"  exclaimed  Annie,  in  a  tone  of  min 
gled  vexation  and  distress,  "  why  has  it  all  turned 
out  so  miserably!  I'm  so  sorry,  so  very  sorry  ;  but 
in  kindness,  I  must  show  you  how  hopeless  it  all  is. 
I  am  the  same  as  engaged  to  another." 

Gregory  started  violently.  His  despairing  words 
were  not  quite  despairing.  But  now  a  chill,  like 
death,  settled  about  his  heart.  He  was  well  satis 
fied  that  she  was  one  who  would  be  true  as  steel  to 
all  such  ties,  and  that  no  man  who  had  learned  to 
know  her  would  ever  prove  inconstant.  But,  with  a 
white  face  and  firmly  compressed  lips,  he  still  listened 
quietly, 

"  I  came  out  this  morning  hoping  to  tell  you  a 
little  secret  as  I  might  confide  in  a  brother,  and  I 
trusted  that  your  friendship  for  me  would  prove 


396  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

strong  enough  to  enable  me  to  make  you  his  friend 
also.  I  wanted  you  to  stay  a  little  longer,  that  you 
might  meet  him — and  that  I  might  reconcile  you, 
and  prepare  the  way  for  pleasant  companionship  in 
the  future.  I  am  expecting  Charles  Hunting  now 
every — 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  look  of  horror  ?  What  have  you  against  him, 
that  you  should  show  such  deep  hostility  before, 
and  now  stare  at  me  in  almost  terror  ?  " 

But  he  only  staggered  against  a  tree  for  support. 

"  Speak,"  cried  she,  passionately  seizing  his  arm. 
"I  will  not  endure  the  innuendo  of  your  look  and 
manner." 

"  I  will  speak,"  he  answered  in  sudden  vehe 
mence.  "  I've  lost  too  much  by  him.  Charles  Hunt 
ing  is —  " 

But  he  stopped,  clenched  his  hands,  and  seemed 
to  make  a  desperate  effort  at  self-control.  She  heard 
him  mutter  as  he  turned  away  a  few  steps : 

"  Stop !  stop  !  All  that  is  left  you  now  is  a 
little  self-respect.  Keep  that — keep  that." 

Annie  misunderstood  him,  and  thought  he  re 
ferred  to  some  slander  that  he  had  hesitated  to  utter 
against  his  enemy  even  in  his  anger  and  jealousy. 
With  blazing  eyes  she  said  :  ' 

"  Let  me  complete  the  sentence  for  you.  Charles 
Hunting  is  a  Christian  gentleman.  You  may  well 
think  twice  before  you  speak  one  word  against  him 
in  my  presence." 

"  Did  I  say  one  word  against  him  ?  "  he  asked 
eagerly. 


PLEADING  FOR  LIFE  AND  LOVE. 


397 


"  No,  but  you  looked  more  than  words  can  ex 
press." 

"  I  could  not  help  that.  Your  revelation  was  sud 
den,  Miss  Walton." 

"  How  could  it  be  otherwise?  "  she  asked  indig 
nantly.  u  The  first  evening  of  your  arrival,  when  his 
name  was  mentioned  your  face  grew  as  black  as  night. 
When  I  again  sought  to  speak  to  you  of  him,  you 
adjured  me  never  to  mention  his  name.  You  taxed 
my  forbearance  severely  at  that  time.  But  I  was  in 
hopes  you  would  become  one  that  would  render  such 
enmity  impossible." 

"  I  see  it  all  now,"  he  groaned,  "  the  miserable 
fatality  of  it  all.  I  must  shut  off  the  one  way  of 
escape,  and  then  go  forward.  By  my  own  act,  I  must 
destroy  my  one  chance.  If  I  had  only  known  this 
in  time — and  yet  it's  through  my  own  act  that  I  did 
not  know.  Your  God  is  certainly  one  of  justice. 
I'm  punished  now  for  all  the  past.  But  it  seems  a 
trifle  cruel  to  show  one  heaven  and  then  shut  the 
door  in  one's  face.  If  I  had  only  known  !  " 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Annie  in  the  deepest  dis 
tress,  "  because  of  this  little  thing  you  fall  back  into 
your  old  skepticism." 

"This  *  little  thing'  is  death  to  me,"  he  said  in  a 
hard,  bitter  tone.  "  Oh  no,  I'm  not  at  all  skeptical. 
The  '  argument  from  design,'  the  nature  of  the  re 
sult,  are  both  too  clear.  I'm  simply  being  dealt 
with  according  to  law.  Though  perfectly  sincere, 
you  were  entirely  too  lenient  that  Sunday  evening 
when  I  told  you  what  I  was.  My  conscience  was 


398  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

right  after  all.  I  only  wish  that  I  had  fallen  from 
yonder  roof  the  other  night.  I  might  then  have 
made  my  exit  decently." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  shock  me,"  she  said  almost 
sternly.  "  You  have  no  right  to  insult  my  faith  in  a 
merciful  God  by  such  words,  and  your  believing  him 
cruel  and  vindictive  on  this  one  bit  of  your  experi 
ence  is  the  sheerest  egotism.  It  is  the  essence  of 
selfishness  to  think  everything  wrong  when  one  does 
not  have  one's  own  way." 

He  only  bowed  his  answer,  then  took  a  few  steps 
out  to  the  point  of  the  hill  and  took  a  long,  lingering 
look  at  the  valley  and  his  old  home,  sighed  deeply, 
turned  and  said  to  her  quietly: 

"  Perhaps  it  is  time  for  you  to  return  to  your 
father.' 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  Do. 

AITITHOUT  a  word  they  descended  the  hill. 
•Gregory  was  very  pale,  and  this,  with  a  certain 
firmness  about  his  mouth,  were  the  only  indications 
of  feeling  on  his  part.  Otherwise,  he  was  the  sarne 
finished  man  of  the  world  that  he  appeared  when  he 
came.  Annie's  face  grew  more  and  more  troubled 
with  every  glance  at  him. 

"  He  is  hardening  into  stone,"  she  thought ;  and 
she  was  already  reproaching  herself  for  speaking  so 
harshly.  "  I  might  have  known,"  she  thought,  "  that 
his  rash,  bitter  words  were  only  incoherent  cries  of 
pain  and  disappointment. 

"  He  perplexed  her  still  more  by  saying  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  in  his  old  light  tone : 

"  See,  Miss  Walton,  our  *  well  meaning  friend  '  has 
not  been  here  to  put  up  the  bars,  and  we  can  take 
the  shorter  way  through  the  orchard.  I  would  like 
to  see  them  picking  apples  once  more.  By  the  way, 
you  must  say  good-by  for  me  to  your  old  neighbor, 
and  tell  him  that  out  of  respect  for  his  first  honest 
greeting,  I'm  going  to  fill  his  pipe  for  the  winter." 

But  Annie's  heart  was  too  full  to  answer. 

"  How  familiar  these  mossy-trunked  trees  are !  w 


400  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

he  continued,  determined  that  there  should  be  no 
awkward  pauses,  no  traces  to  the  eyes  of  others  of 
what  had  occurred.  "  How  often  I've  picked  apples 
from  this  one  and  that  one — indeed  from  all.  Good- 
by,  old  friends." 

"  Do  you  never  expect  to  come  back  to  these 
*  old  friends,'  and  others  that  would  be  friends 
again?"  she  asked  in  low,  trembling  tones.  "  Mr. 
Gregory,  you  are  cruel.  You  are  saying  good-by  as 
if  it  were  a  very  ordinary  matter." 

He  did  not  trust  himself  to  look  at  her,  but  he 
said  firmly : 

"  Miss  Walton,  in  a  few  moments  we  shall  be 
under  the  eyes  of  others,  and  perhaps  I  shall  never 
have  another  chance  to  speak  to  you  alone.  Let 
me  say  a  few  plain,  honest  words  before  I  go.  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  my  love  for  you,  nor  to  have  it 
known.  I  am  glad  there  was  man  enough  in  me  to 
love  such  a  woman  as  you  are.  You  are  not  one  of 
those  belles  who  wish  to  boast  of  their  conquests. 
I  merely  wish  to  leave  in  a  manner  that  will  save 
you  all  embarrassing  questions  and  surmises,  and 
enable  you  to  go  back  to  your  father  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  The  best  I  can  do  is  to  maintain 
the  outward  semblance  of  a  gentleman  with  which  I 
came.  In  regard  to  Charles  Hunting — please  listen 
patiently — I  know  that  you  will  not  believe  any 
statements  of  mine.  It  is  your  nature  to  trust 
implicitly  those  you  love.  But  since  I  have  had 
time  to  think,  eveir  the  little  conscience  I  possess 
will  not  permit  me  to  go  away  in  silence  in  regard 


WHAT  A   LOVER   COULD  DO.  401 

to  him.  Do  not  think  my  words  inspired  by  jealousy. 
I  have  given  you  up.  You  are  as  unattainable  by 
me  as  heaven.  But  that  man  is  not  worthy  of  you. 
Think  well  before  you —  " 

"  You  are  right,"  she  interrupted  hotly.  "  I  will 
not  believe  anything  against  him  whom  I  have 
known  and  loved  for  years.  If  sincere,  you  are  mis 
taken.  But  I  entreat  you,  for  my  own  sake  as  well 
as  yours,  never  speak  a  word  against  him  again. 
Because  if  you  do,  it  will  be  hard  for  me  to  for 
give  you.  If  you  place  the  slightest  value  on  my 
good  opinion  and  continued  regard,  you  will  not 
throw  them  away  so  uselessly.  I  do  feel — I  ever 
wish  to  feel,  a  deep  and  friendly  interest  in  you, 
therefore  speak  for  yourself,  and  I  will  listen  with  hon 
est  sympathy.  Give  me  hope,  if  possible,  that  you 
will  think  better  of  all  this  folly — that  you  will  visit 
your  old  home  and  those  who  wish  to  be  true  friends 
— that  you  will  give  me  a  chance  to  make  you  better 
acquainted  with  one  whom  you  now  greatly  wrong. 
Please  give  me  something  better  than  this  parting 
promises  to  end  in." 

He  merely  bowed  and  said  : 

"  I  supposed  it  would  be  so.  It  is  like  you.  As 
for  myself — I  do  not  know  what  my  future  will  be, 
save  that  it  will  be  full  of  pain.  Rest  assured  of  one 
thing,  however.  I  can  never  be  a  common,  vulgar 
sinner  again,  after  having  loved  you.  That  would  be 
sacrilege.  Your  memory  will  blend  with  that  of  my 
mother,  and  shine  like  a  distant  star  in  my  long 
night.  But  you  have  no  right  to  ask  me  to  come  here 


402 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


any  more.  Though  you  do  not  believe  in  my  love, 
it's  a  reality  nevertheless,  and  I  cannot  inflict  upon 
myself  the  unbearable  pain  of  seeing  you,  yet  hedged 
about  with  that  which  must  ever  keep  me  at  a  dis 
tance.  With  my  feelings,  even  my  poor  sense  of 
honor  forbids  my  seeking  your  presence.  Can  I 
visit  you  feigning  friendship,  while  my  heart  is  con 
suming  with  love  ?  Come,  Miss  Walton,  we  shall 
have  our  real  leave-taking  here,  and  our  formal  one 
at  the  house.  I  don't  think  gratitude  will  ever 
fade  out  of  my  heart  for  all  you  have  tried  to  do 
for  me,  wherever  I  am.  Even  the  '  selfish '  Walter 
Gregory  can  honestly  wish  you  happiness  unalloyed. 
And  you  will  have  it,  too,  in  spite  of — well,  in  spite 
of  everything,  for  your  happiness  is  from  within,  not 
without.  Give  me  your  hand,  and  say  good-by 
under  the  old  mossy  trees." 

Annie  burst  into  tears  and  said  : 

"  I  can't  say  good-by  and  have  you  leave  us  so 
unhappy — so  unbelieving.  Mr.  Gregory,  will  you 
never  trust  in  God  ?  " 

"  I  fear  not — not  after  what  I  know  to-day.  He 
seems  wronging  you  who  are  so  true  to  Him,  as 
well  as  me.  You  see  I  am  honest  with  you,  as  I  said 
I  would  be.  Can  you  take  the  hand  of  such  as  I  ?  " 

She  did  take  it  in  both  of  hers,  and  said  with 
passionate  earnestness : 

"  Oh  that  I  could  save  you  from  yourself  by  main 
force ! " 

He  was  deeply  moved  but  after  a  moment  said 
gently,  "  That  is  like  your  warm  heart.  But  you 


WHAT  A  LOVER  COULD  DO.  403 

cannot.  Good-by,  Annie  Walton.  Go  on  in  your 
brave,  noble  life  to  the  end,  and  then  heaven  will  be 
the  better  for  your  coming." 

"  Will  you  forgive  my  harsh  words  ?  " 

"  They  were  more  true  than  harsh.  They  were 
forgiven  when  spoken." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  cried,  "  I  will  not  say  fare 
well  as  you  say  it.  I  have  prayed  for  you,  and  so  has 
your  mother.  I  will  still  pray  for  you  unceasingly. 
You  cannot  prevent  it,  and  I  will  not  doubt  God's 
promise  to  hear." 

"  I  cannot  share  your  faith.  I  am  saying  good- 
by  in  the  saddest  sense." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her  hand,  and  then  said, 
firmly : 

"  The  end  has  come.  We  really  part  here.  I 
leave  you  as  I  came." 

"  Alas,"  she  said,  "  the  omen  of  the  chestnut  burr 
seems  almost  true.  Your  blood  is  upon  my  hand. 
I  thought  of  it  when  you  were  on  the  roof,  and  it 
comes  to  nve  now  again." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  he  replied  decidedly.  "  The 
snow  just  fallen  is  not  so  white.  Come." 

With  eyes  downcast  and  blinded  with  tears  she 
accompanied  him  out  of  the  deep  shade  to  the  far 
ther  side  of  the  orchard  nearest  the  house.  Jeff  was 
on  a  tall  ladder  that  leaned  against  a  heavily  laden 
tree,  and  was  just  about  to  descend. 

"  That's  right,"  cried  Gregory ;  "  come  down  with 
your  basket  and  give  me  a  taste  of  those  apples. 


404 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


They  look  the  same  as  when  I  used  to  pick  them 
sixteen  years  ago." 

Jeff  obeyed  with  alacrity.  Walter  accompanied 
him  a  few  steps  away,  and  dropped  a  bank-note  into 
the  basket,  saying: 

"  That's. for  the  jolly  wood-fires  you  made  for  me," 
and  then  turned  quickly  toward  Annie  to  escape  the 
profuse  thanks  impending. 

He  had  turned  none  too  soon.  The  boughs  of 
the  tree,  relieved  from  the  weight  of  the  fruit,  and 
Jeffs  solid  person,  threw  out  the  heavy  ladder  that 
had  been  placed  too  near  a  perpendicular  position  at 
first.  It  had  trembled  and  wavered  a  moment,  but 
was  even  now  inclining  over  the  very  spot  where 
Annie  was  standing. 

"  Miss  Walton !  "  he  cried  with  a  look  of  horror ; 
rushed  toward  her,  and  stood  with  head  bent  down 
between  her  and  the  falling  ladder. 

She  heard  a  rushing  sound,  and  then  with  a 
heavy  thud  it  struck  him,  glanced  to  one  side,  graz 
ing  her  shoulder,  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

He  lay  motionless  beneath  it. 

For  a  moment  she  gazed  vacantly  at  him,  too 
stunned  to  think  or  speak. 

But  Jeff  ran  and  lifted  the  ladder  off  Gregory, 
exclaiming : 

"  Lor*  bless  him,  Miss  Annie,  he  jus'  done  save 
your  life." 

She  knelt  at  his  side  and  fook  his  hand,  but  it 
seemed  that  of  the  dead.  She  moaned  : 

"The  omen's  true.    His  blood  is  on  me  now — his 


WHAT  A   LOVER   COULD  DO.  405 

blood  is  on  me  now.  He  died  for  my  sake,  and  I 
called  him  selfish." 

She  took  his  head  into  her  lap,  and  put  her  hand 
over  his  heart. 

She  thought  she  felt  a  faint  pulsation. 

In  a  moment  all  trace  of  weakness  vanished,  and 
her  face  became  resolute  and  strong. 

"  Jeff,"  she  said,  in  clear-cut,  decided  tones,  "  go 
to  the  house,  tell  Hannah  and  Zibbie  to  come  here ; 
tell  Hannah  to  bring  brandy  and  a  strong  double  blan 
ket.  Not  a  word  of  this  to  my  father.  Go,  quick." 

Jeff  ran,  as  he  did  once  before  when  the  blood 
hounds  were  after  him,  saying  under  his  breath  all 
the  way : 

"  Lor'  bless  him.  He  save  Miss  Annie's  life  ;  he 
orter  have  her  sure  'nuff." 

Annie  was  left  alone  with  the  unconscious  man. 
She  pushed  his  hair  from  his  damp  brow,  and  bend 
ing  down,  impressed  a  tender,  remorseful  kiss  upon  it. 

"God  forgive  me  that  I  called  you  selfish,"  she 
murmured.  "  Where  is  your  spirit  wandering  that 
I  cannot  call  it  back  ?  Oh,  live,  live  ;  I  can  never  be 
happy  if  you  die.  Can  this  be  the  end  ?  God  keep 
my  faith  from  failing." 

Again  she  put  her  hand  over  his  heart,  whose 
love  she  could  doubt  no  more.  Did  it  beat,  or  was 
it  only  the  excited  throbbing  of  her  own  hand  ?  " 

She  tried  to  breathe  her  own  breath  into  his 
parted  lips.  She  chafed  his  hands  with  an  energy 
that  would  have  imparted  warmth  to  marble  ;  but  he 
lay  still  and  breathless 


4o€  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Jeff  now  returned,  and,  with  white,  scared  faces, 
the  women  soon  followed.  Annie  tried  to  give 
Gregory  brandy,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  swallow 
it.  They  then  lifted  him  on  the  blanket  and  carried 
him  to  the  house,  and  up  the  back  stairway  to  his 
room,  so  that  Mr.  Walton  might  not  know. 

'LNow,  Jeff,"  whispered  Annie,  "  harness  the  fast 
est  horse  to  the  buggy,  and  bring  the  doctor — mind, 
bring  him.  Don't  tell  him  to  come.  Hannah,  tell 
Miss  Eulie  to  come  here — quietly  now.  Zibbie, 
bring  hot  water." 

Again  she  poured  a  teaspoonful  of  brandy  into 
his  mouth,  and  this  time  he  seemed  to  swallow  it. 
She  bathed  his  face  and  hands  with  spirits,  while  her 
every  breath  was  a  prayer. 

Miss  Eulie  did  not  want  a  long  explanation. 
Annie's  hurried  words,  "A  ladder  fell  on  him,"  sat 
isfied  her,  and  she  set  to  work,  and  more  effectively 
withjier  riper  experience.  She  took  off  his  collar 
and  opened  his  shirt  at  the  throat,  and  soon,  with  a 
look  of  joy  to  Annie,  said  : 

"  His  heart  beats  distinctly." 

Again  they  gave  him  brandy,  and  this  time  he 
made  a  conscious  effort  to  swallow  it. 

With  eyes  aglow  with  excitement  and  hope  they 
redoubled  their  exertions,  Hannah  and  Zibbie  help 
ing,  and  at  last  they  were  rewarded  by  seeing  their 
patient  make  a  faint  movement. 

Now  w  th  every  breath  Annie  silently  sent  the 
words  heavenward,  "  O  God,  I  thank  thee." 

She   bent  over  him,  and  said  in  a  low,  thrilling 


WHAT  A  LOVER   COULD  DO.  407 

tone,  "  Mr.  Gregory."  A  happy  smile  came  out 
upon  his  face,  but  this  was  the  only  response. 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  conscious  ?  "  she  whispered 
to  her  aunt. 

"  I  hardly  know.  Let  me  give  a  little  more  stim 
ulant." 

After  receiving  it  he  suddenly  opened  his  eyes 
and  looked  fearfully  around.  Then  he  tried  to  rise, 
but  fell  back,  and  asked  faintly : 

"  Where  is  Miss  Walton  ?  Is  she  safe  ?  I 
heard  her  voice." 

"  You  did.     I'm  here.     Don't  you  know  me  ?  '' 

"  Are  you  really  here  unhurt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  answered  eagerly ;  "  thanks  to 
you." 

Again  he  closed  his  eyes  with  a  strange  and 
quiet  smile. 

"  Can't  you  see  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  There  seems  a  blur  before  my  eyes.  It  does 
not  signify.  I  know  your  voice,  so  true  and  kind." 

"Why  can't  he  see?  "she  asked,  drawing  her 
aunt  aside. 

"  I  don't  know.  What  I  fear  most  are  internal 
injuries.  Did  the  ladder  strike  his  head  ?  " 

"O  merciful  Heaven,"  said  Annie,  again  in  an 
agony  of  fear.  "  I  don't  know.  Oh,  if  he  should  die — 
if  he  should  die —  "  and  she  wrung  her  hands  with 
terror  at  the  thought. 

The  doctor  now  stepped  lightly  in.  Jeff  had 
told  him  enough  to  excite  the  gravest  apprehensions, 
He  made  a  few  inquiries  and  felt  Gregory's  pulse. 


408 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


"  It's  very  feeble,"  he  said.     "  More  brandy." 

Then  he  said,  "  I  must  make  such  examination 
as  I  can  now  without  disturbing  him  much.  Miss 
Morton,  you  and  Jeff  stay  and  help  me." 

Annie  went  down  to  her  father  with  a  greater 
anxiety  as  to  the  result  of  the  examination  than  if 
the  danger  were  her  own. 

She  found  her  father  awake,  and  wondering  at 
the  sounds  in  the  room  above. 

"  Annie,"  he  said  feebly,  "  what  is  going  on  in 
Mr.  Gregory's  room  ?  " 

As  she  looked  at  him,  she  saw  that  he  was  not 
better,  as  she  hoped,  but  that  his  face  had  a  shrunken 
look,  betokening  the  rapid  failing  of  the  vital  forces. 
The  poor  girl  felt  that  trouble  was  coming  like  an 
avalanche,  and  in  spite  of  herself  she  sat  down,  and 
burying  her  face  in  her  father's  bosom,  sobbed  aloud. 
But  she  soon  realized  the  injury  she  might  do  him 
in  thus  giving  way,  and  by  a  great  effort  con 
trolled  herself  so  as  to  tell  him  in  softened  outlines 
of  the  accident.  But  the  ashen  hue  deeped  on  the 
old  man's  face,  as  he  said  fervently : 

"God  bless  him,  God  bless  him.  He  has  saved 
my  darling's  life.  What  should  I  have  done  in  these 
last  days  without  you  ?  " 

u  But,  father,  don't  you  think  he  will  get  well  ?  " 
she  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  hope  so.  I  pray,  so,  my  child.  But  I  know 
the  ladder,  and  it  is  a  heavy  one.  This  is  time  for 
faith  in  God.  We  cannot  see  a  hand's-breadth  in  the 
darkness  before  us.  He  has  been  very  merciful  to  us 


WHAT  A   LOVER   COULD  DO. 


409 


thus  far,  very  merciful,  and  no  doubt  has  some  wise, 
good  purpose  in  these  trials  and  dangers.  Just  cling 
to  Him,  my  child,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"  Oh,  father,  how  you  comfort  me.  We  must  just 
leave  everything  in  His  hands.  But,  father,  you  feel 
better,  do  you  not?  " 

"  Yes,  much  better ;  not  much  pain  now  ;  and  yet 
for  some  reason  I  feel  that  I  shall  soon  be  where  pain 
never  comes.  How  otherwise  can  I  explain  my 
almost  mortal  weakness  ?  " 

Annie  again  hid  her  tearful  eyes  on  the  bedside. 
Her  father  placed  his  hand  upon  her  bowed  head  and 
said : 

"  It  won't  break  your  heart,  my  little  girl," will  it, 
to  have  your  father  go  to  heaven  ?  " 

But  she  could  not  answer  him. 

At  last  the  doctor  came  down,  and  said  : 

"  His  injuries  are  certainly  serious,  and  may  be 
more  so  than  I  can  yet  discover.  The  ladder  grazed 
his  head,  inflicting  some  injury,  and  struck  him  on  the 
shoulder,  which  is  much  bruised,  arid  the  collar-bone 
is  badly  broken.  The  whole  system  has  received  a 
tremendous  shock,  but  I  hope  that  with  good  care 
he  will  pull  through.  But  he  must  be  kept  very 
quiet  in  mind  and  body.  And  so  must  you,  sir. 
Now  you  know  all,  and  have  nothing  to  suspect. 
It's  often  injurious  kindness  to  half  hide  something 
from  the  sick." 

"  Well,  doctor,  do  your  very  best  by  him,  as  if  he 
were  my  own  son.  You  know  what  a  debt  of  grati 
tude  we-  owe  him.  Spare  no  expense.  If  he  needs 
18 


4IO  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

anything,  let  it  be  sent  for.  If  I  were  only  up  and 
around ;  but  the  Lord  wills  it  otherwise." 

Annie  followed  the  physician  out  and  said  : 

"  You  have  told  us  the  very  worst  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  Miss  Walton,  the  very  worst.  Unless 
there  are  injuries  that  I  cannot  now  detect  I  think 
he  will  get  better.  I  will  send  a  young  man  whom  I 
can  trust  to  take  care  of  him.  Rest  assured  I  will  do 
all  that  is-  possible,  for  I  feel  very  grateful  to  this 
stranger  for  saving  my  much-esteemed  little  friend. 
I  suppose  you  know  we  all  think  a  great  deal  of  you 
in  our  neighborhood,  and  I  shudder  to  think  how 
near  we  came  to  a  general  mourning.  You  see  he 
was  nearer  the  base  of  the  ladder  than  you,  Jeff  says. 
The  ladder  therefore  would  have  struck  you  with 
greater  force,  and  you  would  not  have  had  a  ghost 
of  a  chance.  You  ought  to  be  very  grateful,  eh, 
Miss  Annie  ?  "  he  added,  with  a  little  sly  fun  in  his 
face. 

But  she  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  only  said  with 
deep  feeling: 

"  I  am  very,  very  grateful."  Then  she  added 
quickly,  "  What  about  father  ?  ' 

The  doctor's  face  changed  instantly  and  became 
grave. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  his  case.  He  was 
threatened  with  pneumonia ;  but  there  seems  no 
acute  disease  now,  and  yet  he  appears  failing.  The 
excitement  and  exposure  of  the  other  night  was  too 
much  for  him.  You  must  make  him  take  all  the 
nourishment  possible.  Medicine  is  of  no  use." 


WHAT  A   LOVER  COULD  DO.  411 

Agitated  by  conflicting  fears  and  hopes,  Annie 
went  to  the  kitchen  to  make  something  that  might 
tempt  her  father's  appetite. 

Blessed  are  the  petty  and  distracting  cares  of  the 
household,  the  homely  duties  of  the  sick-room. 
They  divert  the  mind  and  break  the  force  of  the 
impending  blow.  If,  when  illness  and  death  invade 
a  house,  the  fearing  and  sorrowing  ones  had  nought 
to  do  but  sit  down  and  watch  the  remorseless  ap 
proach  of  the  destroyer,  they  might  go  mad. 

When  Annie  stole  noiselessly  back  to  Gregory's 
room  he  was  sleeping,  though  his  breathing  seemed 
difficult. 

What  a  poor  mockery  the  dinner-hour  was! 
Even  the  children  were  oppressed  by  the  general 
gloom  and,  talked  in  whispers.  But  before  it  was 
over  there  came  a  bright  ray  of  light  to  Annie  in  the 
form  of  a  telegram  from  Hunting,  saying  that  he  had 
arrived  in  New  York  safely,  and  would  be  at  the  vil 
lage  on  the  5  P.M.  train. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  cried  Annie ;  "  never  was  he 
so  needed  before." 

And  yet  there  was  a  remorseful  twinge  at  her 
heart  as  she  thought  of  Gregory.  But  she  felt  sure 
of  reconciliation  now,  for  would  not  Hunting  over 
whelm  her  preserver  with  gratitude,  and  forgive 
everything  in  the  past  ? 

She  said  to  Jeff: 

"  Have  Dolly  and  the  low  buggy  ready  for  me  at 
half-past  four." 

Her  father  seemed  peculiarly  glad  when  he  heard 


412  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

that  his  relative  and  the  man  he  hoped  would  soon 
be  his  son,  was  coming. 

"  It's  all  turning  out  for  the  best,"  he  said  softly. 

The  hour  soon  came,  for  it  was  already  late,  and 
Annie  slipped  away,  leaving  both  her  father  and 
Gregory  sleeping.  To  her  great  joy  Hunting  step 
ped  down  from  the  train  and  was  quickly  seated  by 
her  side.  As  they  drove  away  in  the  dusk  he  could 
not  forbear  a  rapturous  kiss  and  embrace,  which  she 
did  not  resist. 

"  Oh,  Charles,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come — so  very 
glad,"  she  exclaimed  almost  breathlessly;  "  and  I've 
so  much  to  tell  you  that  I  hardly  know  where  to 
commence.  How  good  God  is  to  send  you  to  me 
now,  just  when  I  need  you  most." 

"  So  you  find  that  you  can't  do  without  me  alto 
gether.  That's  grand  news.  -  How  I've  longed  for 
this  hour.  If  I'd  had  my  own  way  I  would  have 
exploded  the  boilers  in  my  haste  to  reach  port  to 
see  you  again.  It  was  real  good  of  you  to  come, 
and  not  send  for  me.  Come,  Annie,  celebrate  my 
return  by  the  promise  that  you  will  soon  make  a 
home  for  me.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  can  now 
give  you  the  means  of  making  it  a  princely  one." 

"  I  haven't  the  time  nor  the  heart  to  think  about 
that  now,  Charles.  Father  is  very  ill.  I'm  exceed 
ingly  anxious  about  him." 

"Indeed,"  said  Hunting,  "that  is  bad  news;" 
and  yet  his  grief  was  not  very  deep,  for  he  thought, 
"  If  she  is  left  alone  she  will  come  to  me  at  once." 

"  What  is  more,"  cried  Annie,  a  little  hurt  at  the 


WHAT* A   LOVER  COULD  DO.  413 

quiet  way  in  which  he  received  her  tidings,  "  sup 
pose,  instead  of  meeting  me  strong  and  well,  you  had 
found  me  a  crushed  and  lifeless  corpse  to-night  ?  " 

"  Annie,"  he  said,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  this  would  have  been  true  but  for 
one  with  whom  I  am  sorry  you  are  on  bad  terms. 
Walter  Gregory  is  at  our  house." 

He  gave  a  great  start  at  the  mention  of  this 
name,  and  even  in  the  deep  twilight  his  face  seemed 
very  white. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  almost  gasped. 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  deeply  affected,"  said  the 
unsuspicious  Annie.  "  He  stood  between  me  and 
death  to-day,  and  it  may  cost  him  his  own  life. 
He  was  severely  injured — how  badly  we  can  hardly 
tell  yet ; "  and  she  rapidly  told  him  all  that  had 
occurred.  "  And  now  Charles,"  she  concluded,  "no 
matter  what  he  may  have  done,  or  how  deeply  he 
ma/  have  wronged  you,  I'm  sure  you'll  do  every 
thing  in  your  power  to  effect  a  complete  reconcilia 
tion,  and  cement  a  lasting  friendship.  If  possible, 
you  must  become  his  untiring  nurse.  How  much 
you  owe  him!" 

She  noticed  that  he  was  trembling.  After  a 
moment  he  asked,  hesitatingly: 

"  Has  he — how  long  has  he  been  here  did  you 
say?" 

"  About  three  weeks.  You  know  our  place  was 
his  old  home,  and  his  father  was  a  very  dear  friend 
of  my  father." 

"  If  I  knew  it  I  had  forgotten  it,"  he  answered, 


414  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

with  a  chill  of  fear  growing  deeper  every  moment. 
"Did  he — has  he  said  anything  about  our  difficul 
ties?" 

"  Nothing  definite,"  said  she,  a  little  wonderingly 
at  Hunting's  manner.  "  Father  happened  to  men 
tion  your  name  the  first  evening  of  his  arrival,  and 
the  bitter  enmity  that  came  out  upon  his  face  quite 
startled  me.  You  know  well  that  I  wouldn't  hear 
a  word  against  you.  He  once  commenced  saying 
something  to  your  prejudice,  but  I  stopped  him  and 
said  I  would  neither  listen  to  nor  believe  him — that 
he  did  not  know  you,  and  was  entirely  mistaken  in 
his  judgment.  It  was  evident  to  us  that  Mr.  Greg 
ory  was  not  a  good  man.  Indeed,  he  made  no  pre 
tence  to  being  one ;  but  he  has  changed  since,  as  you 
can  well  understand,  or  he  could'nt  have  done  what 
he  did  to-day.  I  told  father  that  I  thought  the 
cause  of  your  trouble  arose  from  your  trying  to  re 
strain  him  in  some  of  his  fast  ways,  but  he  thought  it 
resulted  from  business  relations." 

"  You  were  both  right,"  said  Hunting  slowly,  as 
if  he  were  feeling  his  way  along.  "  He  was  inclined 
to  be  very  dissipated,  and  I  used  to  remonstrate 
with  him ;  but  the  immediate  cause  was  a  business 
difficulty.  He  would  have  kept  me  out  of  a  great 
deal  of  money  if  he  could." 

His  words  were  literally  true,  but  they  gave  an 
utterly  false  impression.  Annie  was  satisfied,  how 
ever.  It  seemed  a  natural  explanation,  and  she 
trusted  Hunting  implicitly.  Indeed,  with  her  nature, 
love  could  scarcely  exist  without  trust. 


WHAT  A  LOVER   COULD  DO. 


415 


"  That's  all  past  now,"  said  Annie  eagerly. 
"  You  surely  will  not  let  it  weigh  with  you  a  moment. 
Indeed,  Charles,  I  shall  expect  you  to  do  everything 
in  your  power  to  make  that  man  your  friend." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  I  could  not  act  otherwise,"  he  said 
rather  absently.  He  was  scheming  with  desperate 
earnestness  how  to  meet  and  avert  the  impend 
ing  dangers.  Annie's  frank  and  cordial  reception 
showed  him  that  he  was  safe  as  yet  as  far  as  she  was 
concerned.  But  he  knew  her  well  enough  to  feel 
sure  that  if  she  detected  falsehood  in  him,  his  case 
would  be  nearly  hopeless.  He  recognized  that  he 
was  walking  on  a  mine  that  at  any  moment  might 
be  sprung.  With  his  whole  soul  he  loved  Annie 
Walton,  and  it  would  be  worse  than  death  to  lose 
her.  The  thought  of  her  had  made  .every  gross 
temptation  fall  harmless  at  his  feet,  and  even  his 
insatiate  love  of  wealth  had  been  mingled  with  the 
dearer  hope  that  it  would  eventually  minister  to  her 
happiness.  But  he  had  lived  so  long  in  the  atmo 
sphere  of  Wall  Street  that  his  ideas  of  cbmmercial 
integrity  had  become  exceedingly  blurred.  When  a 
questionable  course  opened  by  which  he  could  make 
money,  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation.  He  tried 
to  satisfy  himself  that  business  required  such  action, 
and  called  his  sharp  practice  by  the  fine  names  of 
skill,  sagacity.  But  when  on  his  visits  to  Annie, 
which  of  late,  during  the  worst  of  his  transactions,  had 
been  frequent  rather  than  prolonged,  he  had  a  grow 
ing  sense  of  humiliation  and  fear.  He  saw  that  she 
could  never  be  made  to  look  upon  his  affair  with  Bur* 


416  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

nett  &  Co.  as  he  regarded  it,  and  that  her  father  was 
the  soul  of  commercial  honor.  Though  Mr.  Walton's 
fortune  was  not  large,  not  a  penny  had  come  to  him 
stained.  He  would  go  back  to  the  city,  resolved  to 
quit  everything  illegitimate  and  become  in  his  busi 
ness  and  other  relations  just  what  he  seemed  to  them. 
But  some  glittering  temptation  would  assail  him. 
He  would  make  one  more  adroit  shuffle  of  the  cards, 
and  then  from  being  hollow,  would  become  morally 
and  religiously  sound  at  once. 

Thus  the  devil  dupes  his  victims. 

During  his  voyage  home,  there  was  time  for 
thought.  A  severe  gale,  while  lashing  the  sea  into 
threatening  waves,  had  also  disturbed  his  guilty  con 
science.  He  had  amassed  sufficient  to  satisfy  even 
his  greed  of  gold  for  the  present,  and  his  calculating 
soul  hinted  that  it  was  time  he  began  to  put  away  a 
little  stock  in  heaven  as  well  as  earth.  He  resolved 
that  he  would  withdraw  from  the  whirlpool  of  Wall 
Street  speculation  and  engage  in  only  legitimate  op 
erations.  Moreover,  he  began  to  long  for  the  refuge 
and  more  quiet  joys  of  home,  and  he  felt,  as  did  poor 
Gregory,  that  Annie  of  all  others  could  do  most  to 
make  him  happy  here  and  fit  him  for  the  future  life. 
Therefore  he  had  returned  with  the  purpose  of  press 
ing  his  suit  for  a  speedy  marriage  as  strongly  as.  safe 
policy  would  permit. 

The  bright  October  day  of  his  arrival  in  New 
York  seemed  emblematic  of  his  hopes  and  prospects, 
and  now  again  the  deepening  night,  the  rising  wind 
and  wildly  hurrying  clouds  but  mirrored  back  himself. 


WHAT  A   LOVER   COULD  DO  417 

His  safest  and  wisest  course  would  have  been 
to  have  made  an  honest  confession  to  Annie  of  the 
wrong  he  had  done  Gregory.  As  his  mind  recov 
ered  from  its  first  confusion  this  thought  occurred  to 
him.  But  he  had  already  given  her  the  impression 
that  he  had  received,  or  rather  that  the  wrong  had 
been  attempted  against  him.  Moreover,  by  any 
truthful  confession  he  would  stand  convicted  of 
deceiving  and  swindling  Burnett  &  Co.  He  justly 
feared  that  Annie  would  break  with  him  the  moment 
she  learned  this.  So,  as  with  all  schemers,  he  tem 
porized,  and  left  his  course  open  to  be  decided  by 
circumstances  rather  than  principle.  . 

His  first  course  was  to  learn  of  Annie  all  that  he 
could  concerning  Gregory  and  his  visit,  so  that  he 
might  act  in  view  of  the  fullest  knowledge  possible. 
She  told  him  frankly  what  had  occurred,  as  far  as 
time  permitted  during  their  ride  home.  But  of 
Gregory's  love  she  did  not  speak,  and  was  perplexed 
what  to  do.  Loyalty  to  her  lover  seemed  to  require 
that  he  should  know  all,  and  yet  she  felt  sure  that 
Gregory  would  not  wish  her  to  speak  of  it,  and  she 
owed  so  much  to  him  that  she  felt  she  could  not 
do  what  was  contrary  to  his  wishes.  But  Hunt 
ing  well  surmised  that  whether  Annie  knew  it  or 
not,  Gregory  could  not  have  been  in  her  society 
three  weeks  and  go  away  an  indifferent  stranger. 

"Jeff  can  give  me  more  light,"  he  thought. 

Conscious  of  deceit  himself,  he  distrusted  every 
one,  even  crystal-souled  Annie. 
18* 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DEEPENING  SHADOWS. 

TV/T R.  WALTON  received  Hunting  as  he  might 
a  son.  Indeed,  as  such  he  looked  upon  the 
young  man,  and  the  thought  of  leaving  Annie  to  his 
protection  was  an  unspeakable  comfort. 

Altogether  his  reception  reassured  Hunting,  and 
proved  that  his  relations  were  as  yet  undisturbed. 
But  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  trembled  at  the 
presence  of  Gregory  in  the  house,  and  when  Miss 
Eulie  came  down  and  said,  after  an  affectionate  greet 
ing,  that  Gregory  was  in  something  like  a  stupor,  he 
was  even  base  enough  to  wish  he  might  never  come 
out  of  it. 

But  at  the  word  "  stupor,"  Annie's  face  grew  pale. 
She  had  a  growing  dissatisfaction  with  Hunting's 
manner  in  regard  to  Gregory,  and  felt  that  he  did 
not  feel  or  show  the  interest  or  gratitude  he  ought. 
But  there  was  nothing  tangible  that  she  could  tax 
him  with. 

But  the  doctor,  who  came  early  in  the  evening, 
reassured  her,  and  said  that  the  state  of  partial  con 
sciousness  was  not  necessarily  a  dangerous  symptom, 
as  it  might  be  merely  the  result  of  the  severe  shock. 
The  young  man  he  brought  was  installed  as  nurse 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS. 


419 


under  Miss  Eulie's  charge,  and  Annie  said  that  Mr. 
Hunting  would  also  take  his  turn  as  watcher. 

Then  she,  Mr.  Hunting,  and  her  father,  had  a 
long  talk  over  what  had  happened  in  his  absence. 
Mr.  Walton  dwelling  most  feelingly  on  what  he 
regarded  the  providential  character  of  the  visit  from 
the  son  of  his  old  friend. 

"  If  he  never  leaves  our  house  alive,  I  have  a 
strong  assurance  that  he  will  join  his  father  in  the 
better  home.  Indeed,  I  may  soon  be  there  with 
them." 

"  Please  don't  talk  so,  father,"  pleaded  Annie. 

"  Well,  my  child,  perhaps  it's  best  I  should,  and 
prepare  your  minds  for  what  may  be  near.  It's  a 
great  consolation  to  see  Hunting  again,  and  he  will 
help  you  bear  whatever  is  God's  will." 

"  You  can  trust  her  to  me,"  said  Hunting  fer 
vently.  "  I  have  ample  means  to  gratify  her  most 
extravagant  wish,  and  my  love  will  shelter  her  and 
think  for  her  even  as  yours  would.  But  I  trust  you 
will  soon  share  our  home  with  us." 

"  I  expect  to,  my  children,  but  it  will  be  our 
eternal  home." 

Annie  strove  bravely  to  keep  her  tears  back,  for 
her  father's  sake,  but  they  would  come. 

" Annie,"  said  Hunting,  "won't  you  please  let 
your  father  put  this  ring  on  your  engagement  fin 
ger  ?  "  and  he  gave  Mr.  Walton  a  magnificent  soli 
taire  diamond. 

Mr.  Walton  took  his  daughter's  hand,  and  looked 
earnestly  into  her  tearful,  blushing  face. 


420  OJL  EN  ING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Annie,"  he  said,  in  a  grave,  sweet  tone,  "  I  hope 
for  your  sake  that  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  have  a 
presentiment  that  my  pilgrimage  is  nearly  ended. 
You  have  made  its  last  stage  very  happy.  A  good 
daughter  makes  a  good  wife,  Mr.  Hunting;  and  An 
nie  dear,  I  shall  tell  your  mother  that  you  supplied 
her  place,  as  far  as  a  daughter  could.  It  will  add 
greatly  to  my  peace  if  I  can  leave  you  and  my  sister, 
and  the  dear  little  ones,  under  the  care  of  one  so 
competent  to  protect  and  provide  for  you  all.  Mr. 
Hunting,  do  you  feel  that  you  can  take  them  to  your 
home  and  heart,  with  my  daughter?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Hunting.  "  I  had  no  other 
thought ;  and  Annie's  will  shall  be  supreme  in  her 
future  home." 

"  But  after  all,  the  chief  question  is,  does  this 
ring  join  your  hearts.  I'm  sure  I'm  right  in  thinking 
so,  Annie  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone. 

Slowly  with  his  feeble,  trembling  hands  he  put 
the  flashing  gem  on  Annie's  finger,  and  then  placed 
her  hand  in  Hunting's,  and  looking  solemnly  to 
heaven,  said : 

"  May  God  bless  this  betrothal  as  your  father 
blesses  it." 

Hunting  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  hand  and 
then  her  lips.  With  mingled  truth  and  policy,  he 
said : 

"  This  ceremony  is  moi  e  solemn  and  binding  to 
me  than  the  one  yet  to  come  at  the  altar." 

Annie  was   happy  in  her  engagement.     It  was 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS. 


421 


what  she  expected,  and  had  been  consummated  in  a 
way  that  seemed  peculiarly  sweet  and  sacred ;  and 
yet  her  thoughts,  with  a  remorseful  tinge,  would  keep 
recurring  to  the  man  who  even  then  might  be  dying 
for  her  sake. 

After  they  had  sat  a  little  while  in  silence,  which 
is  often  the  best  expression  of  deep  feeling,  she  sud 
denly  said,  with  an  involuntary  sigh  : 

"Poor  Mr.  Gregory,  I'm  so  sorry  for  him." 

Thus  Hunting  knew  where  her  thoughts  were, 
and  instantly  the  purpose  formed  itself  in.  his  mind 
to  induce  her  through  her  father  to  consent  to  an 
immediate  marriage.  He  saw  more  plainly  than 
Annie  the  great  change  in  her  father,  and  based  his 
hope  on  the  fact  that  the  parent  might  naturally 
wish  to  give  his  child  a  legal  protector  before  he 
passed  away. 

Mr.  Walton  now  showed  such  signs  of  weariness 
that  they  left  him  in  Miss  Eulie's  care,  who  seemed 
to  flit  like  a  ministering  spirit  between  the  two 
patients. 

After  the  great  excitement  of  the  day,  Annie,  too, 
was  very  weary,  and  soon  the  household  sought  'such 
rest  as  was  possible  with  two  of  its  inmates  seemingly 
very  near  the  boundaries  that  separate  the  known 
world  from  the  unknown.  Glimmering  all  night  long, 
like  signals  of  distress  at  sea,  the  faint  lights  of  the 
watchers  reminded  late  passers-by  of  the  perilous 
nature  of  earthly  voyaging. 

Annie  had  gone  with  Miss  Eulie  to  take  a  part 
ing  look  at  Gregory.  She  bent  over  him  and  said, 


422  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  but  his  spirit  seemed  to  have  sunk 
into  such  far  depths  that  even  her  voice  could  not 
summon  him. 

"  Oh,  if  he  should  die  now !  "  she  moaned  shud- 
deringly,  and  on  the  night  of  her  engagement  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  saw  little  change  in  the  pa 
tients,  save  that  Mr.  Walton  was  evidently  weaker. 
Miss  Eulie  said  that  Gregory  had  roused  up  dur 
ing  the  night  and  seemed  perfectly  conscious.  He 
had  inquired  after  Mr.  Walton  and  Annie,  but  to 
ward  morning  had  fallen  into  his  old  lethargy. 

After  breakfast  Annie  took  Hunting  up  to  see 
him,  but  was  pained  to  see  her  lover's  face  darken 
as  he  looked  at  the  prostrate  and  unconscious  man. 
She  could  not  understand  it.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  wish  to  remain.  She  felt  almost  indignant,  and 
yet  what  could  she  say  more  than  she  had  ?  Greg 
ory's  condition,  and  the  cause,  should  naturally  plead 
for  him  beyond  all  words. 

Annie  spent  most  of  the  day  with  her  father,  and 
purposed  watching  him  that  night.  The  doctor 
came  and  reported  more  favorably  of  Gregory,  but 
said  that  everything  depended  upon  his  being  quiet. 
Annie  purposed  that  Hunting  should  commence  the 
duties  of  Watcher  as  soon  as  possible.  Therefore  she 
told  her  aunt  to  tell  Gregory  that  Hunting  had 
arrived,  as  soon  as  she  thought  it  would  answer.  In 
the  afternoon,  Gregory  seemed  to  come  out  of  his 
lethargy  more  decidedly  than  he  had  before,  and 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  423 

took  some  nourishment  with  decided  relish.  Then 
he  lay  quietly  looking  at  the  fire. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  now  ?  "  Miss  Eulie  asked 
gently.  • 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know/'  he  answered  wearily. 
"  I  have  a  numb,  strange  feeling." 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  Miss  Walton  ?  " 

"  No,  not  now  ;  I  am  satisfied  to  know  she  is  well." 

"  She  wished  me  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Hunting 
had  arrived." 

He  turned  away  his  face  with  a  deep  scowl,  but 
said  nothing. 

After  some  time  she  came  to  his  side  and  said  : 
"  Is  there  anything  you  would  like  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied  gently.  "  I  appreciate 
your  great  kindness." 

Miss  Eulie  sighed  and  left  the  room,  feeling  dimly 
that  there  were  internal  injuries  after  all,  but  such 
as  were  beyond  the  doctor's  skill. 

Annie  echoed  her  sigh  when  she  heard  how  he 
received  Miss  Eulie's  information.  She  determined 
to  prepare  and  take  him  his  supper. 

When  she  noiselessly  entered,  he  was  again  look 
ing  fixedly  at  the  fire.  But  she  had  not  advanced 
far  into  the  room  before  he  recognized  her  step  and 
looked  up  quickly. 

"  See,"  she  said  cheerily,  coming  to  his  side, 
"  I've  prepared  and  brought  you  this  supper  with  my 
own  hands,  and  shall  expect  in  return  that  you  com 
pliment  it  highly.  Now,  isn't  it  a  good  supper?" 
she  asked,  holding  it  before  him. 


424 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


But  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  glittering  and  signifi 
cant  ring,  whose  meaning  he  too  well  understood. 
With  an  expression  of  intense  pain  he  turned  his  face 
to  the  wall  without  a  word. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  pleaded  Annie,  "  I  never  thought 
you  would  turn  away  from  me." 

Not  from  you,  not  from  you,"  he  said  in  a  low 
tone  ;  "  but  I'm  very  weak,  and  the  light  of  that  dia 
mond  is  too  strong  for  me  yet." 

11  Forgive  me,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  deep 
reproach  ;  "  I  did  not  think." 

"  No,  forgive  me.  Please  leave  me  .now,  and 
remember  in  charity  how  weak  I  am." 

She  put  the  tray  down  and  hastened  from  the 
room.  He  ate  no  supper  that  night,  neither  did  she. 
Hunting  watched  her  gloomily,  with  both  fear  and 
jealousy  at  heart.  But  the  latter  was  groundless,  for 
Annie's  feeling  was  only  that  of  profound  sorrow  for 
something  she  could  not  help.  But  lack  of  strongly 
manifested  interest  and  sympathy  for  Gregory  injured 
him  in  her  estimation;  for  woman-like  she  uncon 
sciously  took  the  side  of  the  one  he  wronged.  She 
could  understand  Gregory's  enmity,  but  it  seemed 
to  her  that  Hunting  should  be  full  of  generous  en 
thusiasm  for  one  who  was  suffering  so  much  in  her 
behalf. N 

"Men  are  so  strange,"  she  said,  half  vexedly; 
"  they  fall  in  love  without  the  slightest  "provocation, 
and  hate  each  other  forever,  when  a  woman  would 
have  sharp  words  and  be  over  with  it.  They  never 
do  what  you  would  naturally  expect/' 


DEEPENING   SHADOWS. 


425 


During  the  day  Hunting  had  found  time  to  see 
Jeff  alone,  but  found  him  inclined  to  be  sullen  and 
uncommunicative.  Jeff  had  changed  sides,  and  was 
now  an  ardent  adherent  of  Gregory's,  who  had  given 
him  five  dollars  without  imposing  any  conditions ; 
and  then,  what  was  of  far  greater  import,  had  saved 
the  house  and  Annie's  life,  and  according  to  Jeffs 
simple  views  of  equity,  he  ought  to  have  both.  And 
yet  a  certain  rude  element  of  honesty  made  him 
feel  that  he  had  made  a  bargain  with  Hunting, 
and  that  he  must  fulfill  his  part -and  then  would  be 
quits.  But  he  was  not  disposed  to  do  it  with  very- 
good  grace.  So  when  Hunting  said  : 

"  Well,  Jeff,  I  suppose  you've  seen  a  good  deal 
since  I  was  last  here." 

"  Yes,  I'se  seen  a  mighty  lot,"  said  Jeff,  senten- 
tiously. 

"  Well,  Jeff,  you  remember  our  agreement. 
What  did  you  see  ?  Only  the  truth  now." 

"  Sartin,  sah,  only  de  truf.  I'se  belong  to  de  Wal 
ton  family,  and  youse  doesn't  get  nothin'  but  de  truf 
from  dem." 

"  All  right,  Jeff;  I'm  glad  your  employers  have 
so  good  an  influence  on  you.  Well?  " 

"  I'se  seen  Misser  Gregory  on  de  roof,"  said  Jeff, 
drawing  on  his  imagination,  as  he  only  heard  about 
that  event  through  Zibbie's  highly  colored  story, 
"  where  some  other  folks  wouldn't  dar  go,  and  now 
I'se  see  dat  house  dar,  which  I  wouldn't  see  dar, 
wasn't  it  for  Misser  Gregory." 


426  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Hunting  impatiently,  "  I've 
heard  all  about  that.  What  else  ?  " 

"  I'se  seen  Miss  Annie  roun'  all  daybloomin'  and 
sweet  as  a  rose,  and  I'se  seen  how  she  might  have 
been  a  crushed  white  lily,"  Jeff  continued  solemnly, 
with  a  rhetorical  wave  of  the  hand. 

There  existed  in  Jeff  the  raw  material  of  a  col 
ored  preacher,  only  it  was  very  crude  and  undevel 
oped.  But  upon  any  important  occasion  he  always 
grew  rhetorical  and  figurative  in  his  language. 

"  Come,  come,  Jeff,  tell  me  something  new." 

"  Well,"  said  Jeff,  "  since  I'se  promised  to  tell 
you,  and  since  I'se  spent  de  ten  dollars,  and  hasn't 
got  it  to  give  you  back  again,  I'se  seen  Misser  Gregoiy 
las'  Sunday  evenin',  a  kneelin'  afore  Miss  Annie  as 
if  he  was  a  sayin'  his  prayers  to  her,  and  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  she  heard  'em  (with  a  chuckle) ;  any  how 
she  wasn't  lofty  and  scornful,  and  Misser  Gregory 
he's  looked  kinder  glorified  ever  since ;  afore  that  he 
looked  glum,  and  Miss  Annie,  she's  been  kinder 
bendin'  toward  him  since  dat  evenin',  like  a  rose-bud 
wid  de  dew  on  it." 

Hunting's  face  darkened  with  suppressed  anger 
and  jealousy.  After  a  moment  he  said : 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  Dat's  all." 

"Well,  Jeff,  here's  ten  dollars  more,  and  look 
sharper  than  ever  now." 

"  'Scuse  me,  Misser  Hunting.  We'se  squar  now. 
I'se  done  what  I  agreed,  and  now  I'se  goin'  out  ob 
de  business." 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS. 


427 


"  Has  Gregory  engaged  your  services  ? "  asked 
Hunting  quickly. 

"  No,  sah,  he  hab  not.  I  reckon  Misser  Gregory 
tink  he  doesn't  need  any  help." 

"  Why  won't  you  do  as  I  wish  then?" 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hunting,  it  kinder  makes  me  feel  bad 

here,"  said  Jeff,  rubbing  his  hand  indefinitely  over 

several  physical  organs.     "  I  don't  jes'  believe  Miss 

Annie  would  like  it,  and   after  seem'   Mr.  Gregory 

under  dat  pesky  ladder,  I   couldn't  do  nothin'   dat 

he  wouldn't  like.     If  it  hadn't  been  for  him  I'd  sorter 

;•  felt  as  if  I'd  killed  Miss  Annie  by  leavin'  dat  doggoned 

|  ladder  so  straight  up,  and  I   nebber  could  hab  gone 

out  in  de  dark  agin  all  my  life." 

"  Why,  you  old  black  fool,"  said  Hunting  irritably, 
don't  you  know  I'm  going  to  marry  Miss  Annie  ? 
You'd  better  keep  on  the  right  side  of  me." 

"  Which  is  de  right  side?"  Jeff  could  not  for 
bear  saying,  with  a  suppressed  chuckle. 

".Come  sir,  no  impudence.  You  won't  serve  me 
any  more  then  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  Misser  Hunting.  I'se  black  yer  boots, 
make  de  fire,  harness  de  hoss,  do  any  thing  dat  won't 
hurt  in  here,"  with  a  gesture  that  seemed  to  indi 
cate  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  "  Anything  more,  please 
'scuse  me." 

•     "  You  will  not  speak  of  what  has  passed  between 
us?" 

"  I'se  given  my  word,"  said  Jeff,  drawing  himself 
up,  "  de  word  ob  one  dat  belongs  to  de  Waltons." 

Hunting  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  away. 


428  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Annie  had  given  one  version  to  the  scene  on  that 
Sabbath  evening,  and  Jeff  had  innocently  given 
another.  Hunting  was  not  loyal  enough  even  to 
such  a  woman  as  Annie  to  believe  her  implicity. 
But  it  is  the  curse  of  conscious  deceit  to  breed  sus 
picion.  VOnly  the  true  can  have  absolute  faith  in  the 
truth  of  others.  Moreover,  Hunting,  in  his  hidden 
selfishness  and  worldiness,  could  not  understand 
Annie's  ardent  and  Christ-like  effort  to  save  a  fellow- 
creature  from  sin.  Skilled  in  the  subtle  impulses 
of  the  heart,  he  believed  that  Annie,  unconsciously 
even  to  herself,  was  drifting  toward  the  man  he  hated 
all  the  more  because  he  had  wronged  him,  and  be 
cause  he  now  was  under  such  great  obligations  to 
him,  while  the  danger  of  his  presence  made  him 
almost  vindictive.  Yet  he  realized  the  necessity  of 
disguising  his  feelings,  for  if  Annie  discovered  them 
he  might  well  dread  the  consequences.  But  the 
idea  of  watching  alone  with  Gregory  was  revolting. 
It  suggested  dark  thoughts  which  he  tried  to  put 
from  him  in  horror,  for  he  was  far  from  being  a 
hardened  villain.  He  was  only  a  man  who  had 
gradually  formed  the  habit  of  acting  from  expe 
diency  and  self-interest,  instead  of  principle.  But 
such  a  rule  of  life  often  places  us  where  expediency 
and  self-interest  require  deeds  that  are  black  with 
sin. 

But  he  was  saved  from  the  ordeal  of  spending 
hours  alone  with  a  man  who  even  in  his  helplessness 
might  injure  him  beyond  remedy,  for  on  the  follow 
ing  morning  Annie  again  sought  Gregory's  room 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  429 

bent  on  securing  reconciliation  at  once.  She  felt 
that  she  could  endure  this  estrangement  no  longer. 

The  young  man  employed  as  watcher  was  out  at 
the  time. 

Gregory  was  gazing  at  the  fire  with  the  same 
look  of  listless  apathy.  A  deep  flush  overspread 
his  deathly  pale  face  as  she  came  and  sat  down  be 
side  him,  but  he  did  not  turn  from  her. 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said  very  gently,  "  it  seems 
that  I  can  do  nothing  but  receive  favors  from  you, 
and  I've  come  now  to  ask  a  great  one." 

He  suspected  something  concerning  Hunting, 
and  his  face  darkened  forbiddingly.  Though  Annie 
noted  this,  she  would  not  be  denied. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  said  earnestly,  that  after 
your  sacrifice  for  me,  I  can  ever  cease  to  be  your 
friend  in  the  truest  and  strongest  sense  ?  " 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  said  calmly,  "  I've  made  no 
sacrifice  for  you.  The  thought  of  that  episode  in 
the  orchard  is  my  one  comfort  while  lying  here,  and 
will  be  through  what  is  left  of  life.  But  please  do 
not  speak  of  it,  for  it  will  become  a  pain  to  me  if  I 
see  the  obligation  is  a  burden  to  you." 

"  It  is  not,"  she  said  eagerly.  "  I'm  glad  to  owe 
my  life  to  you.  But  do  you  think  I  can  go  on  my 
way  and  forget  you?  " 

"  It's  the  very  best  you  can  do,  Miss  Walton." 

"  But  I  tell  you  it's  impossible.  Thank  God,  it's 
not  my  nature  to  do  it." 

He  turned  toward  her  with  a  wistful,  searching 
look. 


430  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  We  must  carry  out  our  old  agreement,"  con 
tinued  Annie.  "  We  must  be  close  and  lasting 
friends.  You  should  not  blame  me  for  an  attachment 
formed  years  ago." 

"  I  do  not  blame  you." 

"  Then  you  should  not  punisli  me  so  severely. 
You  first  make  your  friendship  needfuj  to  me,  and 
then  deny  it." 

"  I  am  your  friend,  and  more." 

"  How  can  we  enjoy  a  frank  and  happy  friend 
ship  through  coming  years,  after — after — you  feel 
differently  from  what  you  do  now,  when  you  will 
not  even  hear  the  name  of  him  who  will  one  day  be 
my  second  self?  " 

Again  his  face  darkened ;  but  she  continued 
rapidly, "  Mr.  Hunting  is  deeply  grateful  to  you,  and 
would  like  to  express  his  feelings  in  person.  He 
wishes  to  bury  the  past —  " 

"  He  will,  with  me,  soon,"  interrupted  Gregory 
gloomily. 

"  No  ;  please  do  not  speak  that  way,"  she  pleaded. 
"  He  wishes  to  make  what  little  return  he  can,  and 
offers  to  watch  with  you  night  and  day." 

He  turned  upon  her  almost  fiercely,  and  said : 

"Are  you  too  in  league  with  my  evil  destiny,  in 
that  you  continually  persecute  me  with  that  man  ? 
Miss  Walton,  I  half  doubt  whether  you  know  what 
love  means,  or  you  would  not  make  such  a  proposi 
tion.  Let  me  at  least  die  quietly.  With  the  mem 
ory  of  the  past  and  the  knowledge  of  the  present,  his 
presence  in  my  room  would  be  death  by  torture. 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  431 

Pardon  me,  but  let  us  end  this  matter  once  for  all. 
We  have  both  been  unfortunate.  You,  in  inspiring 
a  love  that  you  cannot  return — I,  in  permitting  my 
heart  to  go  from  me  beyond  recall,  before  learning 
that  my  passion  would  be  hopeless.  I  do  not  see 
that  either  of  us  has  been  to  blame — you  certainly 
not  in  the  slightest  degree. 

"  But,  however  vain,  my  love  is  an  actual  fact,  and 
I  cannot  act  as  if  it  were  not.  As  well  might  a  man 
with  a  mortal  wound  smile  and  say  it's  but  a  scratch. 
I  cannot  merely  change  my  mind  in  view  of  expedi 
ency  and  invest  such  feelings  in  another  way.  The 
fact  of  my  love  is  now  a  past  disaster,  and  I  must 
bear  the  consequences  with  such  fortitude  as  I  can. 
But  what  you  ask  would  drive  me  mad.  If  I  should 
live,  possibly  in  the  future  I  might  meet  you  often 
without  the  torturing  regret  I  now  feel.  But  to 
make  a  smiling  member  of  Charles  Hunting's  friendly 
circle  would  require  on  my  part  the  baldest  hy 
pocrisy;  and  I  can't  do  it,  and  won't  try.  If 
that  man  comes  into  my  room,  I  will  crawl  out  if 
I  can." 

He  was  trembling  with  excitement,  his  face  flushed 
and  feverish,  and  his  eyes  unnaturally  bright. 

"  And  you  banish  me,  too,"  said  Annie,  hurt  and 
alarmed  at  the  same  time. 

"  Yes,  yes,  forgive  me  for  saying  so.  Yes ;  till 
I'm  stronger.  See  how  I've  spoken  to  you.  I've  no 
self-control." 

She  was  most  reluctant  to  go,  and  stood  a  mo« 


432 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


ment,  hesitatingly.     Timidly  she  ventured  to  quote 
the  line : 

"  Earth  has  no  sorrows  that  Heaven  cannot  cure." 

"  That's  a  comforting  fact  for  those  who  are 
going  there,"  he  said  coldly. 

With  a  sudden  burst  of  passionate  grief  she 
stooped  down  and  kissed  his  hand,  then  fled  to  her 
own  room,  and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  were  lost  to  her  and  heaven,  and 
yet  he  was  capable  of  being  so  noble  and  good. 

Miss  Eulie  entered  Gregory's  room  soon  after, 
and  was  alarmed  at  his  feverish  and  excited  appear 
ance,  and  decided  that  Annie's  visits  must  cease  for 
the  present.  But  she  took  no  apparent  notice  of  his 
disturbed  condition,  but  immediately  gave  a  remedy 
to  ward  off  fever,  and  a  strong  opiate,  which,  with 
the  reaction  and  his  weakness,  caused  him  to  sink 
back  into  something  like  his  old  lethargy. 

Hunting  had  spent  the  morning  with  Mr.  Walton, 
preparing  his  mind  for  the  plan  of  immediate  mar 
riage.  He  found  the  failing  man  not  averse  to  the 
project,  as  his  love  sought  to  secure  to  Annie  every 
help  arid  solace  possible. 

After  Annie  had  removed  from  her  face  every 
trace  of  her  emotion  possible,  she  came  down  and 
took  her  place  at  her  father's  side,  intending  to  leave 
it  only  when  compelled.  Hunting  knew  of  her  mis 
sion  to  Gregory,  and  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  but 
she  sadly  shook  her  head.  He  tried  to  look  hurt, 
but  succeeded  in  looking  angry.  He  soon  controlled 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  433 

himself,  however,  though  he  noted  with  deep  uneasi 
ness  Annie's  sad  face  and  red  eyes.  Mr.  Walton 
fortunately  was  dozing  and  needed  no  explanations. 

But  that  night  he  was  much  worse,  and  had  some 
very  serious  symptoms.  Annie  never  left  his  side. 
But  toward  morning  he  rallied  and  fell  into  a  quiet 
sleep.  Then  Annie  took  a  little  rest. 

The  next  day  she  was  told  that  there  was  a  gen 
tleman  in  the  parlor  who  wished  to  see  her.  The 
stranger  proved  to  be  one  of  Gregory's  partners, 
Mr.  Seymour,  who  courteously  said  : 

"  I  should  have  been  here  before,  but  the  senior 
partner,  Mr.  Burnett,  is  unable  to  attend  to  business 
at  present,  and  I  came  away  the  first  moment  I  could 
leave.  I  felt  sure  also  that  everything  would  be 
done  that  could  be.  I  hope  the  injury  is  not  so 
serious  as  first  supposed." 

"  You  may  rest  assured  that  we  have  tried  to  do 
everything,"  said  Annie,  gravely,  "  but  Mr.  Gregory 
is  in  a  very  precarious  condition.  You  would  like  to 
see  him,  I  suppose." 

"  If  I  can  with  safety  to  him." 

"  I  think  a  brief  interview  may  do  him  good. 
He  needs  rallying." 

At  that  moment,  Hunting,  not  knowing  who  was 
was  present,  entered.  Both  gentlemen  started,  but 
Mr.  Seymour  gave  no  other  sign  of  recognition,  nor 
did  Hunting,  though  he  could  not  at  first  hide  £  cer 
tain 'degree  of  nervous  agitation. 

Annie  presented  him.  Mr.  Seymour  bowed 
stifly,  and  said  rather  curtly : 


434 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


"We  have  met  before,"  and  then  gave  him  no 
further  attention,  but,  continuing  to  address  Annie, 
said  : 

"  I  well  understand  that  Mr.  Gregory  needs 
rallying.  That  has  been  just  his  need  for  the  last 
few  months,  during  which  time  his  health  has  been 
steadily  failing.  I  was  in  hopes  he  would  come 
back — "  and  then  he  stopped,  quite  puzzled  for  a 
moment  by  the  sudden  change  in  Annie's  manner, 
which  had  become  freezingly  cold  toward  him,  while 
there  was  a  look  of  honest  indignation  upon  her 
face. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  she  said  briefly.  "  I  will  send 
you  my  aunt,  who  will  attend  upon  your  wishes,"  and 
she  left  Mr.  Seymour  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor  both  confused  and  annoyed  ;  but  he  at  once  sur 
mised  that  it  was  on  account  of  his  manner  toward 
Hunting,  who  sat  down  with  a  paper  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  room,  as  if  he  were  alone. 

But  when,  a  moment  later,  Miss  Eulie  entered 
with  her  placid,  unruffled  face,  Mr.  Seymour  could 
not  be  otherwise  than  perfectly  polite,  and  after  a 
few  words  followed  her  to  Gregory's  room. 

Annie  at  once  came  to  Hunting  and  asked  : 

"  Why  did  that  man  act  so  ?  " 

".Why,  don't  you  see?"  answered  he  hastily. 
"  Mr.  Seymour  is  Gregory's  partner.  They  all  have 
the  -same  reason  for  feeling  hostile  toward  me, 
though  perhaps  Gregory  has  special  reasons,"  he 
added  with  a  meaning  look. 

Annie  blushed  deeply  at  this  allusion,  but  said 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  435 

with  emphasis,  "  No  man  shall  treat  you  that  way 
in  my  presence  and  still  receive  courtesy  from 
me/' 

But  his  jealous  spirit  had  noticed  her  quick  blush 
more  than  her  generous  resentment  of  the  insult  she 
supposed  offered  him.  Therefore  he  said  : 

"  Mr.  Gregory  would  treat  me  worse  if  he  got 
a  chance." 

"  But  his  case  is  different  from  any  one's  else," 
she  said,  with  another  quick  flush. 

"  Evidently  so  in  your  estimation." 

Then  for  the  first  time  she  noted  his  jealousy, 
and  it  hurt  her  sorely.  She  took  a  step  nearer  and 
looked  very  gravely  into  his  face  for  a  moment  with 
out  speaking,  and  then  said,  with  that  calmness 
which  is  more  effective  than  passion : 

"  Charles,  take  care.  I'm  one  that  will  be  trusted. 
Though  it  seems  a  light  matter  to  you  that  he  has 
saved  my  life,  at  perhaps  the  cost  of  his  own,  it  does 
not  to  me." 

The  cool  and  usually  cautious  man  had  for  once 
lost  his  poise,  and  he  said  with  sudden  irritation : 

"  I  hear  that  and  nothing  else.  What  else  could 
he  have  done?  If  you  had  staid  at  your  father's 
side  you  would  have  been  safe.  He  took  you  out  to 
walk,  and  any  man  would  have  risked  his  life  to 
have  brought  you  back  safely." 

Then  for  the  first  time  he  saw  in  Annie  a  spirit 
he  could  never  control  as  he  managed  people  in 
Wall  Street,  for,  with  a  sudden  blaze  in  her  eyes,  she 
said  hotly : 


436  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

"  I  do  not  reason  thus  coldly  about  those  to 
whom  I  owe  so  .much/'  and  abruptly  left  him. 

In  bitterness  of  fear  and  self-reproach  he  at  once 
realized  his  blunder.  He  followed  her,  but  she  was 
with  her  father,  and  he  could  not  speak  there.  He 
looked  imploringly  at  her,  but  could  not  catch  her 
eye,  for  she  was  deeply  incensed.  Had  she  not  heard 
him  she  would  not  have  believed  that  he  could  be  so 
ungenerous. 

He  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper  : 

"  Annie,  forgive  me.  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon. 
I'm  not  myself  to-day,  and  that  man's  conduct,  which 
you  so  nobly  resented  in  my  behalf,  vexed  me  to 
that  degree  that  I  acted  like  a  fool.  I  am  not 
worthy  of  you,  but  you  will  perceive  that  my  folly 
arises  from  my  excess  of  love  for  you.  I'm  going  for 
a  walk.  Please  greet  me  with  pardon  in  your  face 
on  my  return." 

Impulsive,  loving,  warm-hearted  Annie  could  not 
resist  such  an  appeal.  She  at  once  relented,  and 
commenced  making  a  thousand  better 'excuses  for 
her  lover  than  he  could  for  himself.  But  she  had 
taught  him  a  lesson,  and  proved  that  she  was  not  a 
weak,  willowy  creature  that  would  cling  to  him  no 
matter  what  he  was  or  did.  He  saw  that  he  must 
seem  to  be  worthy  of  her. 

Gregory  greeted  his  partner  with  a  momentary 
glow  of  gratitude  that  he  had  come  so  far  to  see 
him,  and  commenced  talking  about  his  business. 

"  Not  a  word  of  that,  old  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Sey 
mour.  "  Your  business  is  to  get  well.  It  seems  to 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS.  437 

me  that  you  have  everything  here  for  comfort — good 
medical  attendance,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  if  anything,  too  much  is  done  for  me." 

"  I  don't  understand  just  how  it  happened." 

Gregory  told  him  briefly. 

"  By  Jove,  this  Miss  Walton  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  to  you." 

"  She  is  too  grateful." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  met  that  infernal 
Hunting  down  stairs.  Of  course  I  couldn't  treat  him 
with  politeness,  and  do  you  know  the  little  lady 
spunked  up  about  it  to  that  degree  that  she  almost 
turned  her  back  upon  me  and  left  the  room." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Gregory  coolly,  shielding  his 
secret  by  a  desperate  effort ;  "  they  are  engaged." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  now.  Well,  I  rather  like  her 
spirit.  Does  she  know  how  accomplished  her  lover 
is  in  Wall  Street  ?  " 

*'  No.  Hunting  is  a  distant  relative  of  the  family. 
They  believe  him  to  be  a  Christian  gentleman,  and 
would  not  listen  to  a  word  against  him." 

"  But  they  ought  to  know.  He  lied  like  a 
scoundrel  to  us,  and  in  your  trying  to  make  up  the 
losses  all  summer,  he  has  nearly  been  the  death  of 
you.  I  wouldn't  let  my  daughter  marry  him  though 
he  had  enough  money  to  break  the  Street ;  and  it 
seems  a  pity  that  a  fine  girl,  as  this  Miss  Walton 
seems,  should  throw  herself  away  on  him." 

"  Well,  Seymour,  that's  not  our  affair,"  said 
Gregory,  pale  and  faint  from  his  effort  at  self-con 
trol.  "  They  would  listen  to  nothing." 


438  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Well,  good-by,  old  fellow.  I  see  it  won't  do  to 
talk  with  you  any  more.  Get  well  as  soon  as  you 
can,  for  we  want  you  wofully  in  town.  Get  well,  and 
carry  off  this  Miss  Walton  yourself.  It  would  be  a 
neat  way  of  turning  the  tables  on  Hunting." 

"  Don't  set  your  heart  on  seeing  me  at  the  office 
again,"  said  Gregory,  feelingly.  "  I  have  a  presenti 
ment  that  I  won't  pull  through  this,  and  I  don't 
much  care.  Give  my  kindest  regards  to  Mr.  Bur 
nett,  and  tell  him  I  shall  think  of  him  to  the  last  as 
among  my  best  friends." 

Seymour  made  a  few  hearty  remonstrances  against 
such  a  state  of  mind,  and  took  his  departure  with 
many  misgivings.  Gregory  relapsed  into  his  old 
dreary  apathy.  Life  had  so  many  certain  ills  that 
upon  the  whole  he  felt  he  would  rather  die.  But  he 
was  too  stunned  and  weak  to  think  much  at  all,  save 
when  Annie  came  to  him.  Her  presence  was  always 
life,  but  now  it  was  a  sharp  revival  of  the  conscious 
ness  of  his  loss.  Left  to  himself,  his  mind  sank  down 
into  a  sort  of  painless  lethargy,  from  which  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  aroused. 

Mr.  Walton  passed  a  quieter  night,  but  was 
clearly  failing  fast.  He  sent  frequent  messages  .of 
love  and  sympathy  to  Gregory,  but  seemed  to  have 
an  abiding  faith  that  all  would  be  well  with  him  in 
the  next  life,  if  not  in  this.  Annie  had  not  the  heart 
to  undeceive  him.  When  he  thought  it  a  little 
strange  that  Hunting  was  not  with  him,  Annie  ex 
plained  by  saying  that  the  doctor  insisted  on  perfect 
quiet  of  mind,  and  the  presence  of  Hunting  might 


DEEPENING  SHADOWS. 


439 


unpleasantly  revive  old  memories,  and'  so  unduly 
excite  him. 

After  the  physician  saw  his  patients  the  follow 
ing  morning,  he  looked  grave  and  dissatisfied.  An 
nie  followed  Rim  to  the  door,  and  said : 

"  Doctor,  I  don't  like  the  expression  of  your 
face." 

"  Well,  Miss  Annie,"  said  the  doctor  discontent 
edly,  "  I've  a  difficult  task  on  rny  hands,  in  trying  to 
cure  two  patients  that  make  no  effort  to  live.  Your 
father  seems  homesick  for  heaven,  and  mere  drugs 
can't  rouse  Mr.  Gregory  out  of  his  morbid,  gloomy 
apathy.  I  could  get  him  ashore  if  he  would  strike 
out  for  himself,  but  he  just  floats  down  stream  like 
driftwood.  But  really,  I'm  doing  all  that  can  be 
done,  I  think." 

"  I  believe  you  are,"  she  said  sadly.     "  Good  by." 

"  Oh,  merciful  God,"  she  exclaimed  when  alone. 
"What  shall  I  do— what  shall  I  do  to  save  him? 
Father's  going  to  heaven  and  mother.  Where  is  lie 
going  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXX.    ' 

KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL. 

"\7L7TTH  the  light  of  the  following  day  Annie  gave 
up  all  hope  of  her  father's  recovery.  He  was 
sinking  fast,  and  conscious  himself  that  death  was 
near.  But  his  end  was  like  a  stately  ship  coming  into 
harbor  after  a  long,  successful  voyage.  He  looked 
death  in  the  face  with  that  calmness  and  dignity, 
that  serene  certainty  that  it  was  a  change  for  the 
better,  which  Christian  faith  alone  can  inspire.  His 
only  solicitude  was  for  those  he  was  leaving,  and  yet 
he  had  no  deep  anxiety,  for  his  strong  faith  com 
mitted  them  trustingly  to  God. 

Annie  tried  to  feel  resigned,  since  it  was  God's 
will.  But  the  tie  that  bound  her  to  him  was  so  ten 
der,  so  interwoven  with  every  fibre  of  her  heart,  that 
she  shrank  with  inexpressible  pain  from  its  sunder 
ing.  She  knew  that  she  was  not  losing  her  father, 
that  the  worst  before  them  was  but  a  brief  separa 
tion,  but  how  could  she,  who  had  lived  so  many 
happy  years  at  his  side,  endure  even  this  ?  It 
seemed  as  if  she  could  not  let  him  go,  and  in  the 
strong,  passionate  yearning  of  her  heart,  she  was 
almost  ready  to  leave  youth,  friends,  lover  and  all,  to 
go  with  him. 


KEPT  FROM   THE  EVIL. 


441 


*P  She  was  one  who  lived  in  her  affections  rather 
than  surroundings.  The  latter  would  matter  little  to 
her  could  she  keep  her  heart-treasures.  It  would 
have  touched  the  coldest  to  see  how  she  clung  to 
him  toward  the  last.  All  else  was  forgotten,  even 
Gregory,  who  might  be  dying  also.  The  instinct  of 
nature  was  strong,  and  her  father  was  first. 

Moreover,  the  relation  between  this  parent  and 
child  was  peculiarly  close,  for  they  were  not  only  in 
perfect  sympathy  in  views,  character,  and  faith,  but 
Annie  had  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  widowed  man 
years  before  and  sought  successfully  to  fill  the  place 
of  one  who  had  reached  home  before  him.  Though 
so  young  she  had  been  his  companion  and  daily 
friend,  interesting  herself  in  that  which  interested 
him,  and  thus  he  was  saved  from  that  terrible  loneli 
ness  which  often  breaks  the  heart  even  in  the  midst 
of  a  household.  It  was  therefore  with  a  love  beyond 
words  that  his  eyes  rested  most  of  the  time  on  her 
and  followed  her  every  movement. 

She  also  had  a  vague  and  peculiar  dread  in  looking 
forward  to  her  bereavement.  An  anticipating  sense 
of  isolation  and  loneliness  chilled  her  heart. 

Though  she  would  not  openly  admit  it  to  herself, 
Hunting  had  disappointed  her  since  his  return.  She 
did  not  get  from  him  the  support  and  Christian  sym 
pathy  she  expected.  She  tried  to  excuse  him,  and 
charged  herself  with  being  too  exacting,  and  yet  the 
sense  of  something  wanting  pained  her.  She  had 
hoped  that  in  these  dark  days  he  would  be  serene 
and  strong,  and  yet  abounding  in  the  terderest  sym- 
19* 


442  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

pathy.  She  had  expected  words  of  faith  and  conso 
lation  that  would  have  sustained  her  spirit,  fainting 
under  a  double  and  peculiar  sorrow.  She  had  felt 
sure  that  before  this  his  just  gratitude,  like  a  torrent, 
would  have  overwhelmed  and  destroyed  Gregory's 
enmity.  But  all  had  turned  out  so  differently;  In 
stead  of  being  a  help,  he  had  almost  added  to  her 
burden  by  his  hostile  feeling  toward  her  preserver, 
which  he  had  not  been  wholly  able  to  disguise. 
Such  a  feeling  on  his  part  seemed  as  unnatural  as 
wrong.  He  professed  himself  ready  to  do  anything 
she  wished  for  Gregory,  but  it  was  in  a  half-hearted 
way,  to  oblige  her,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  injured 
man.  When  she  went  to  him  for  Christian  consola 
tion,  his  words,  though  well-chosen,  lacked  heartiness 
and  the  satisfying  power  of  truth. 

Why  this  was  so  can  be  well  understood.  Hunt 
ing  could  not  give  what  he  did  not  possess.  Of 
necessity  there  would  be  a  hollow  ring  when  he 
spoke  of  that  he  did  not  understand  or  feel.  Dur 
ing  his  brief  visits,  and  in  his  carefully  written  letters, 
he  could  appear  all  she  wished.  He  could  honestly 
show  'his  sincere  love  for  her,  and  there  was  no 
special  opportunity  to  show  anything  else.  In  her 
vivid,  loving  imagination  she  supplied  all  else,  and 
she  believed  that  when  more  together,  or  in  affliction, 
he  would  reveal  more  distinctly  his  deeper  and  reli 
gious  nature,  for  such  a  nature  he  professed  to  have  ; 
and  his  letters,  which  could  be  written  deliberately, 
abounded  in  Christian  sentiment.  Self-deceived,  he 


KEPT  FROM   THE  EVIL.  443 

meant  to  be  honestly  religious,  as  soon  as  he  could 
afford  to  give  up  his  questionable  speculations. 

But  when  a  man  least  expects  it  the  test  and 
strain  will  come,  that  will  clearly  manifest  the  char 
acter  of  his  moral  stamina.  It  had  now  come  to 
Hunting,  and  though  he  strove  with  all  the  force  and 
adroitness  of  a  resolute  will  and  a  practised  dissem 
bler,  he  was  not  equal  to  the  searching  demands  of 
those  trying  days,  and  steadily  lost  ground.  The  only 
thing  that  kept  him  up  was  his  sincere  love  for  An 
nie.  That  was  so  apparent  and  honest  that,  loving 
him  herself,  she  was  able  to  forgive  the  rest.  But  it 
formed  no  small  part  of  her  sorrow  at  that  dark  time, 
that  she  must  lower  her  lofty  ideal  of  her  lover. 
Hunting  and  Gregory  seemed  nearer  together  morally 
than  she  could  have  believed  possible.  Thus  she 
already  had  the  dread  that  she  would  not  be  able  to 
"  look  up  "  to  Hunting  as  she  expected,  and  that  it 
would  be  her  mission  to  deepen  and  develop  his  reli 
gious  life  instead  of  "  leaning  "  upon  it. 

It  seemed  strange  to  her  as  she  thought  of  it 
during  her  long  hours  of  watching,  that  after  all  she 
would  have  to  do  for  Hunting  something  like  what 
poor  Gregory  had  asked  her  to  do  for  him.  She 
prayerfully  purposed*  to  do  it,  for  the  idea  of  be 
ing  disloyal  to  her  engagement  never  entered  her 
mind. 

"  Unless  men  have  a  Christian  home,  in  which 
their  religious  life  can  be  daily  strengthened  and  fos 
tered,  they  cannot  be  what  they  ought,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  In  continued  contact  with  the  evil 


444 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


world,  with  nothing  to  counteract,  it's  not  strange 
that  they  act  and  feel  as  they  do." 

Thus  she  was  more  disposed  to  feel  sorry  for 
both  Hunting  and  Gregory  than  to  blame.  And  yet 
she  looked  upon  the  former  very  differently  from 
the  latter.  She  regarded  Hunting  as  a  true  Chris 
tian  who  simply  needed  warming  and  quickening 
into  positive  life,  while  she  thought  of  Gregory  only 
with  fear  and  trembling.  Her  hope  for  the  latter 
were  the  prayers  stored  up  in  his  behalf. 

But  now  upon  this  day  that  would  ever  be  so 
painfully  memorable  she  had  thoughts  only  for 
her  father,  and  nothing  could  tempt  her  from  his 
side. 

Hunting  also  saw  that  the  crisis  was  approach 
ing,  and  made  but  a  formal  semblance  of  a  breakfast. 
He  then  entered  the  sick-room,  and  was  thinking 
how  best  to  broach  the  subject  of  immediate  mar 
riage,  when  a  thumping  of  crutches  was  heard  in  the 
hall. 

Miss  Eulie  entered  and  said  that  Daddy  Tuggar 
had  managed  to  hobble  over,  and  had  set  his  heart 
upon  seeing  his  old  friend. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Walton  ;  "  he  shall  come 
in  at  once." 

"  Caution  him  to  stay  but  a  few  minutes,"  warned 
Annie. 

Miss  Eulie  helped  the  old  man  in,  and  he  sat 
down  by  Mr.  Walton's  side,  with  a  world  of  trouble 
on  his  quaint,  wrinkled  face. 

But   he    said    abruptly,   as   if   he    expected   an 


KEPT  FROM   THE  EVIL. 


445 


affirmative  answer,  "  Yer  gettin'  better  this  mornin' 
— yer  on  the  mend  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  kind  old  neighbor,"  said  Mr.  Walton 
feebly.  "I  shall  soon  be  well.  It  was  kind  of  you, 
in  your  crippled  state,  to  come  over  to  see  me." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Mr.  Tuggar,  greatly  relieved, 
"  there  is  use  of  prayin'.  I  ain't  much  of  a  hand  at 
it,  and  didn't  know  how  the  Lord  would  take  it  from 
me ;  but  when  I  heard  you  was  sick,  I  began  to  feel 
like  prayin',  and  when  I  heard  you  was  gettin'  wuss, 
I  couldn't  help  prayin'.  When  I  heard  how  that 
city  chap  as  saved  the  house — (what  an  old  fool  I  was 
to  cuss  him  when  he  first  came !  The  Lord  knew 
what  He  was  doin'  when  He  brought  him  here) — 
when  I  heard  how  he  kept  the  ladder  from  falling 
on  Miss  Annie,  I  prayed  right  out  loud.  My  wife, 
she  thought  I  was  gettin'  crazy.  But  I  didn't  care 
what  anybody  thought.  I've  been  prayin'  all  night, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  the  Lord  must  hear  me,  and  I 
kinder  felt  it  in  my  bones  that  he  had.  So  I  expected 
to  hear  you  say  you  was  goin'  to  get  well ;  and  Mr. 
Gregory,  he's  better  too.  Ain't  he  ?  " 

There  was  no  immediate  answer.  Neither  Miss 
Eulie  nor  Annie  seemed  to  know  how  to  answer  the 
old  man  at  first.  But  Mr.  Walton  reached  slowly 
out  and  took  his  neighbor's  hand,  saying : 

"  Your  prayers  will  be  answered,  my  friend. 
Honest  prayer  to  God  always  is.  I  shall  be  well 
soon,  never  to  be  old,  feeble,  and  sick  any  more. 
I'm  going  where  there's  '  no  more  pain.'  Perhaps 
I've  seen  my  last  night,  for  there  is  *  no  night  there.'  " 


446  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  But  the  Lord  knows  I  didn't  mean  nothin'  of 
that  kind.  We  need  you  here,  and  He  orter  know 
it.  What's  the  use  of  prayin'  if  you  get  just  the 
opposite  of  what  you  pray  for  ?  " 

"  Suppose  the  opposite  is  best.  I'm  an  old  man' — 
a  shock  of  corn  fully  ripe.  I'm  ready  to  be  gathered." 

"  Are  yer  goin'  to  die?"  asked  the  old  man  in  an 
awed  whisper. 

"JNo,  Mr.  Tuggar;  I've  been  growing  old  and  fee 
ble,  I've  been  dying  for  a  long  time.J^Now  I'm  going 
to  live — to  be  strong  and  well,  forever  and"  ever.  So 
don't  grieve,  but  rather  rejoice  with  me." 

The  old  man  sat  musingly  a  moment,  and  then 
said  softly  to  himself,  "This  is  what  the  Scripter 
means  when  it  tells  about  the  '  death  of  the  right 
eous.'  " 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Walton,  though  more  feebly, 
"  and  the  Scripture  is  true.  The  dear  Lord  doesn't 
desert  his  people.  He  who  has  been  my  friend 
and  helper  so  many  years,  now  tells  me  that  my 
sins,  which  are  many,  are  all  forgiven.  It  seems 
that  I  have  also  heard  Him  say,  *  To-day  thou  shalt 
be  with  me  in  Paradise.' " 

Tears  gathered  in  Daddy  Tuggar's  eyes,  and 
he  said  brokenly,  "  The  Lord  knows — I've  alers 
been  a  sort — of  well-meanin'  man — but  I  couldn't 
talk  that  way — if  I  was  where  you  be." 

"  Mr. Tuggar,"  said  Mr.  Walton,  "I'm  too  weak 
to  say  much  more,  but  I  want  to  ask  you  one  ques 
tion.  You  have  read  the  Bible.  Whom  did  the  Lord 
Jesus  come  to  save  ?  " 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.     .  447 

"  Sinners,"  was  the  prompt  response. 

"Are  you  one?" 

«  What  else  be  I  ?  " 

"Then,  old  neighbor,  you  are  safe,  if  you  will  just 
receive  him  as  your  Saviour.  If  you  were  sure  you 
were  good  enough  and  didn't  need  any  Saviour,  I 
should  despair  of  you.  But  according  to  the  Bible, 
you  are  just  such  as  he  came  after.  If  you  feel  that 
you  are  a  sinner,  all  you  have  to  do  is  trust  Him  and 
do  the  best  you  can." 

"  Is  that  all  you  did  ?  " 

"  All.  I  couldn't  do  anything  more.  And  now, 
good-by,  remember  my  last  words — Whom  did  Jesus 
come  to  save?" 

V  "  Why  He  come  to  save  me,"  burst  out  the  old 
man,  rising  up.  "  What  a  cussed  old  fool  I  was,  not 
to  see  it  afore  ?  I  was  alers  thinkin'  he  came  after  the 
good  folks,  and  I  felt  that  no  matter  how  I  tried  I 
could  not  be  good  enough.  Good-by,  John  Walton. 
If  they  are  goin'  to  let  sinners  into  heaven  who  are 
willin'  to  come  any  way  the  Lord  will  let  'em  come, 
I'll  be  yer  neighbor  again  'fore  long,"  and  with  his 
withered,  bronzed  visage  working  with  an  emotion 
that  he  did  not  seek  to  control,  he  wrung  the  dying 
man's  hand,  and  hobbled  out. 

But  he  pleaded  with  Miss  Eulie  to  let  him  stay. 
"  I  want  to  see  it  out,"  he  said,  "  for  if  grim  death 
ain't  goin'  to  get  one  square  knock-down  now,  then  he 
never  had  it.  I  v/ant  to  see  the  victory.  'Pears  to 
me  that  when  the  gates  open  the  glory  will  shine 
out  upon  us  all." 


448  Of  EN  ING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

So  she  installed  him  in  Mr.  Walton's  arm-chair  by 
the  parlor  fire,  and  made  him  thoroughly  at  home. 

"  I'm  a-waitin'  by  the  side  of  the  river,"  he  said. 
"  I  wish  I  could  go  over  with  him.  'Pears  Yd  feel 
sure  they  wouldn't  turn  me  back  then." 
3f  "The  Lord  Jesus  will  go  over  the  river  with 
you,"  she  said  gently,  "  and  then  they  can't  turn 
you  back." 

"  I  hope  so,  I  hope  so,"  said  this  old  child-like 
man,  "  for  I'm  a  dreadful  sinner." 

After  this  interview,  which  greatly  fatigued  him, 
Mr.  Walton  dozed  for  an  hour,  and  then  brightened 
up  so  decidedly  that  Annie  had  faint  hopes  that  he 
was  better. 

The  children  were  brought  to  him,  and  he  kissed 
and  fondled  them  very  tenderly.  Then,  in  a  way 
that  would  make  a  deep  impression  on  their  childish 
natures,  he  told  them  how  he  was  going  to  see  their 
father  and  mother,  and  would  tell  what  good  chil 
dren  they  had  been,  and  how  they  always  meant  to 
be  good,  and  how  all  would  be  waiting  for  them  in 
heaven. 

Thus  the  little  ones  received  no  grim  and  terri 
ble  impressions  at  that  death-bed,  but  rather  mem 
ories  and  hopes  that  in  all  their  future  would  hold 
them  back,  like  angel  hands,  from  evil. 

Hunting  now  believed  that  the  time  for  him  to 
act  had  come.  He  had  told  Jeff  to  have  the  horse 
and  buggy  ready  so  that  he  might  send  for  the  old 
pastor  at  once. 

He  came  to  Annie's  side,  and  taking  her  hand 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL.  449 

and  her  father's,  thus  seeming  a  link  between  them, 
said  very  gently,  very  tenderly : 

"  Annie,  your  father  has  told  me  that  it  would 
be  a  great  consolation  to  him  to  leave  me  in  charge 
of  you  all  as  his  son,  legally,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  as  I  feel  I  am  in  reality.  I  could  then  do 
everything  for  you,  relieve  you  of  ev£ry  care,  and 
protect  with  unquestioned  right  all  the  interests  of 
the  household.  Again,  the  marriage  tie,  like  that 
of  our  betrothal,  consummated  here  at  his^side, 
would  ever  seem  to  us  peculiarly  tender  and  sacred. 
It  will  almost  literally  be  a  marriage  made  in  heaven. 
I  hope  you  will  feel  that  you  can  grant  this,  your 
father's  last  wish." 

Annie  felt  a  sudden  and  strong  repugnance  to 
the  plan.  In  that  hour  of  agonized  parting  she  did 
not  wish  to  think  of  marriage,  even  to  one  she  loved. 
Her  thoughts  immediately  recurred  to  Gregory,  and 
she  felt  that  such  an  act  in  his  weak  state  might 
cause  disastrous  results.  And  yet  if  it  were  her 
father's  wish — his  last  wish,  how  could  she  refuse  him 
— how  could  she  refuse  him  anything?  The  mar 
riage  day  would  eventually  come.  If  by  making 
this  the  day  she  could  once  more  show  her  filial  love 
and  add  to  his  dying  peace,  did  she  not  owe  him  her 
first  "duty?  The  dying  are  omnipotent  with  us. 
Who  can  refuse  their  last  requests  ? 

She  looked  inquiringly,  but  with  tear-blinded 
eyes,  at  her  father. 

"Yes,  Annie,"  he  said,  answering  her  look,  "it 
would  be  a  great  consolation  to  me,  because  I  can 


450 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


see  how  it  will  be  of  much  advantage  to  you — more 
than  you  can  now  understand.  It  will  enable 
Charles  to  step  in  at  once  as  head  of  the  household, 
and  so  you  will  be  saved  from  many  perplexities  and 
details  of  business  which  would  be  very  trying  to 
you  as  you  will  feel.  I  want  to  save  you  and 
sister  from  all  this,  and  you  have  no  idea  how  much 
it  will  save  your  feelings,  and  add  to  your  comfort, 
to  have  one  like  Charles  act  for  you  with  such 
power  as  he  would  have  as  your  husband.  After 
seeing  you  all  thus  provided  for,  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  could  depart  in  perfect  peace." 

"  Dear  father,"  said  Annie  tenderly,  "  how  can  I 
deny  you  anything!  This  seems  to  me  no  time  for 
marriage,  but  since  you  wish  it,  your  will  shall  be 
mine.  It  must  be  right  or  you  would  not  ask  it ;  and 
yet —  "  she  did  not  finish  the  sentence  but  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands,  weeping. 

"  That's  my  noble  Annie,"  Hunting  exclaimed, 
with  a  glad  exultation  in  his  voice  that  he  could  not 
disguise;  and  hastening  out,  he  told  Jeff  to  bring  the 
minister  as  speedily  as  possible. 

Miss  Eulie  was  called,  and  acquiesced  in  her 
brother's  opinion  ;  and  hovered  around  Annie  in  a 
tender  flutter  of  maternal  love. 

Hunting  now  felt  that  he  was  master  of  destiny, 
and  in'  his  heart  bade  defiance  to  Gregory  and  all 
his  fears.  His  elation  and  self-applause  were  great, 
for  had  he  not  snatched  his  prize  out  of  the  hand 
of  death  itself,  and  made  events  that  would  have 
awed  and  disheartened  other  men  combine  for  his 


KEPT  FROM  THE  EVIL. 


451 


good  ?  He  had  schemed,  planned,  and  overreached 
them  all,  though,  in  this  case,  for  their  interests  as 
well  as  his  own,  he  believed.  While  he  would  natu 
rally  wish  the  marriage  to  take  place  as  soon  as 
possible,  his  chief  reason  was  to  forestall  any  revela 
tions  which  might  come  through  Gregory,  and  this 
motive  made  his  whole  course,  though  seemingly 
dictated  by  the  purest  of  feeling,  a  crafty  trick.  And 
yet,  such  was  the  complex  nature  of  the  man,  that 
he  honestly  meant  to  fulfil  all  Mr.  Walton's  ex 
pectations,  and  become  Annie's  loving  shield  from 
every  care  and  trial,  and  a  faithful  guardian  of  the 
household.  Nay,  more,  as  soon  as  he  was  securely 
intrenched,  with  all  his  coveted  possessions,  he  pur 
posed  that  Annie  should  help  him  to  be  a  true,  good 
man — a  Christian  in  reality. 

XWell  may  the  purest  and  strongest  pray  to  be 
"  Kept  from  the  evil  of  the  world."  It  lurks  where 
least  suspected,  and  can  plot  its  wrongs  in  the 
chamber  of  death,  and  on  the  threshold  of  heaven. 
Annie  and  her  father  might  at  least  suppose  them 
selves  safe  now/i  Were  they,  with  God's  minister  on 
his  way  to  join  truth  with  untruth — a  pure-hearted 
maiden  to  a  man  from  whom  she  would  shrink  the 
moment  she  came  to  know  him?  Not  on  the  human 
side.  pThey  were  safe  only  as  God  kept  them.  If 
Annie  Walton  had  found  herself  married  to  a  swin 
dler,  hers  would  have  been  a  life-long  martyrdom. 
But  unconsciously  she  drew  momentarily  nearer  the 
edge  of  the  precipice.  Time  was  passing,  and  their 
venerable  pastor  would  soon  be  present.  Annie  had 


452  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

welcomed  him  every  day  previously,  as  he  came  to 
take  sweet  counsel  with  her  father  rather  than  pre 
pare  him  for  death,  but  now  she  had^a  strange,  secret 
dread  of  his  coming. 

Her  father  suddenly  put  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

"  Have  you  pain  there?"  asked  Annie. 

"  It's  gone,"  he  replied  after  a  moment.  "  They 
will  soon  be  all  past,  Annie  dear.  How  does  Mr. 
Gregory  seem  now  ?  "  he  asked  of  Miss  Eulie. 

"  Greatly  depressed,  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  she  an 
swered.  "  He  knows  that  you  are  no  better,  and  it 
seems  to  distress  him  very  much." 

"  God  bless  him  for  saving  my  darling's  life,"  he 
saicl  fervently,  "  and  He  will  bless  him.  I  have  a 
feeling  that  he  will  see  brighter  and  better  days.  I 
can  send  him  almost  a  father's  love  and  blessing,  for 
he  now  seems  like  a  son  to  me.  Say  to  him  that  I 
shall  tell  his  father  of  his  noble  deeds.  Be  a  sister 
to  him,  Annie.  Carry  on  the  good  work  you  have 
so  wisely  commenced.  May  the  friendship  of  the 
parents  descend  to  the  children.  And  you,  Charles, 
my  son,  will  surely  feel  toward  him  as  a  brother,  what 
ever  may  have  been  the  differences  of  the  past." 

Innocent  but  deeply  embarrassing  words  to  both 
Hunting  and  Annie. 

Again  Mr.  Walton  put  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

Hunting  left  the  room,  for  it  was  surely  time  for 
Jeff  to  return.  With  a  gleam  of  exultant  joy  he 
saw  him  driving  toward  the  house  with  the  white- 
haired  minister  at- his  side.  He  returned  softly  to 
the  sick-room. 


KEPT  FROM   THE  EVIL.  453 

Mr.  Walton  had  just  taken  Annie's  hands,  and 
after  a  look  of  unutterable  fondness,  said : 

"  Before  I  give  you  to  another — while  you  are 
still  my  own  little  girl,  let  me  thank  you  for  having 
been  to  me  all  and  more  than  a  father  could  ask. 
How  good  God  was  to  give  me  such  a  comfort  in 
your  mother's  place  !  " 

"  Dear  father,"  was  all  that  Annie  could  say. 

Even  then  the  minister  was  entering  the  house. 

"  I  bless  thee,  my  child,"  the  father  continued ; 
then  turning  his  eyes  heavenward  he  reverently 
closed  them  in  prayer,  saying,  "  And  God  bless  thee 
also,  and  keep  thee  from  every  evil." 

God  answered  him. 

His  grasp  on  Annie's  hand  relaxed;  without 
even  a  sigh  he  passed  away. 

He  was  dead. 

Annie  started  up  with  a  look  of  alarm,  and  saw 
the  same  expression  on  the  faces  of  her -aunt  and 
Hunting.  They  spoke  to  him — he  did  not  answer. 
Hunting  felt  his  puls,e.  Its  throb  had  ceased  forever. 
The  chill  of  a  great  dread  turned  his  own  face  like 
that  of  the  dead. 

Miss  Eulie  put  her  hand  on  her  brother's  heart. 
It  was  at  rest.  Annie  stood  motionless  with  dilat 
ing  eyes  watching  them.  But  when  her  aunt  came 
toward  her  with  streaming  eyes  she  realized  the 
truth  and  fell  fainting  to  the  floor. 

Just  then  the  old  minister  crossed  the  threshold, 
but  Hunting  said  to  him  almost  savagely; 

"  You  are  too  late." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"LIVE,  LIVE" — ANNIE'S  APPEAL. 

A  NNIE'S  swoon  was  so  prolonged  that  both  her 
^*"  Aunt  and  Hunting  were  quite  alarmed.  It 
was  the  reaction  from  the  deep  and  peculiar  excite 
ments  of  the  last  few  days.  Every  power  of  mind 
and  body  had  been  under  the  severest  strain,  and 
nature  now  gave  way. 

The  doctor,  when  he  came  to  make  his  morning 
call,  was  most  welcome.  He  said  there  was  nothing 
alarming  about  Miss  Walton's  symptoms,  but  added 
very  decisively  that  she  would  need  rest  and  quiet 
of  mind  for  a  long  time  in  order  to  regain  her  for 
mer  tone  and  health. 

When  Annie  revived  he  gave  something  that 
would  tend  to  quiet  her  nervous  «ystem  and  produce 
sleep. 

"  I  now  understand  Mr.  Walton's  case,"  he  said 
to  Miss  Eulie.  "I  could  not  see  why  his  severe  cold, 
which  we  had  apparently  cured,  should  result  as  it 
did ;  but  now  it's  plain  that  it  was  complicated  with 
heart  difficulties." 

His  visit  to  Gregory  was  riot  at  all  satisfactory, 
for  his  patient's  depression  was  so  great  that  he 
was  sinking  under  it.  Mr.  Waltofi's  death,  leaving 
Annie  defenceless,  as  it  were,  in  the  hands  of  a  man 


"LIVE,  LIVE"— ANNIES  APPEAL. 

like  Hunting,  seemed  another  of  the  dark  and  cruel 
mysteries  which  to  him  made  up  human  life.  The 
death  that  had  given  Daddy  Tuggar  such  an  impulse 
toward  faith  and  hope,  only  led  him  to  say  with 
intense  bitterness : 

j£  God    has    forgotten   his   world,   and    the    devil 
rules  it." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  the  physician  gravely,  "  do 
you  know  that  you  are  about  the  same  as  taking 
your  own  life  ?  All  the  doctors  in  the  world  cannot 
lielp  you  unless  you  try  to  live.  Drugs  cannot 
remove  your  apathy  and  morbid  depression." 

"  Very  well,  doctor,"  he  replied  coldly ;  "  do  not 
trouble  yourself  to  come  any  more.  I  absolve  you 
of  all  blame." 

"  But  I  cannot  absolve  myself.  Besides,  it's  not 
manly  to  give  up  in  this  style." 

"  I  make  no  pretence  to  being  manly  or  anything 
else.  I  am  just  what  you  see.  Can  a  broken  reed 
stand  up  like  a  sturdy  oak?  Can  such  a  thing  as  I 
reverse  fate  ?  Thank  you,  doctor,  for  all  you  have 
done,  but  waste  no  more  time  upon  me.  I  knew, 
weeks  ago,  that  the  end  was  near,  and  would  like  to 
die  in  the  old  place." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  deep  per 
plexity,  and  then  silently  left  the  room. 

"  Internal  injuries  that  I  can't  get  at,"  he  mut 
tered  as  he  drove  away. 

Miss  Eulie  came  to  Gregory's  side,  and  laying  her 
hand  gently  on  his  brow  said,  "  You  are  mistaken, 
my  young  friend.  You  are  going  to  live." 


456  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  "  he  asked, 

"  The  dying  often  have  almost  prophetic  vision," 
and  she  told  him  all  that  Mr.  Walton  had  said 
though  nothing  of  the  contemplated  marriage.  She 
dwelt  with  special  emphasis  on  the  facts  that  he  had 
told  Annie  to  be  a  sister  to  Gregory  and  had  gone 
to  heaven  with  the  assurance  to  his  old  friend  that 
his  son  would  join  him  there. 

Gregory  was  strongly  moved,  and  turning  his  face 
upon  the  pillow,  gave  way  to  a  passion  of  tears  ;  but 
they  were  despairing,  bitter,  regretful  tears.  He 
soon  seemed  ashamed  of  them,  and  when  he  again 
turned  his  face  toward  Miss  Eulie,  it  had  a  hard, 
stony  look. 

With  almost  sternness  he  said,  "  If  the  dying  have 
supernatural  insight,  why  could  not  Mr.  Walton 
see  what  kind  of  a  man  Hunting  is  ?  Please  leave 
me  now.  I  know  how  kind  and  well-meant  your 
words  are,  but  they  are  mockery  to  me,"  and  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

Miss  Eulie  sighed  very  deeply,  but  felt  that  his 
case  was  beyond  her  skijl. 

Daddy  Tuggar  was  at  first  grievously  disap 
pointed.  He  had  wrought  himself  up  into  the  hope 
of  a  celestial  scene,  and  the  abrupt  and  quiet  termina 
tion  of  Mr.  Walton's  life  seemed  inadequate  to  the 
occasion.  But  Miss  Eulie  comforted  him  by  saying 
that  "the  Christian  walked  by  faith,  and  not  by 
sight — that  God  knew  what  was  best,  better  than  we 
his  little  children." 

"  Death  had  not  even  the  power  to  cause  him  a 


"LIVE,  LIVE"—  ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  457 


moment's  pain,"  she  said.  "  God  gave  him  a  sweet 
surprise,  by  letting  him  in  the  gates  before  he  was 
aware." 

Thus  she  led  the  strange  old  man  to  think  it  was 
for  the  best  after  all.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Ames,  who  had 
come  on  such  a  different  mission,  also  tried  to  make 
clearer  what  Mr.  Walton  had  said  to  him.  But 
Daddy  Tuggar  would  not  permit  his  mind  to  wander 
a  moment  from  the  simple  truth,  which  he  kept  say 
ing  over  and  over  to  himself: 

"  I'm  a  dreadful  sinner,  and  the  good  Lord  come 
after  just  such." 

Another  thing  that  greatly  perplexed  the  old 
man  was  that  Mr.  Walton  had  not  been  permitted 
to  live  long  enough  to  see  his  daughter  married. 
As  an  old  neighbor,  and  because  of  his  strong  attach 
ment  to  Annie,  he  had  been  invited  with  the  rest  of 
the  family  to  be  present. 

"  Tears  to  me  that  the  Lord  might  have  spared 
him  a  few  minutes  longer,"  he  said. 

"  It  appears  to  you  so,"  replied  Mr.  Ames,  "  but 
the  Lord  knows  why  he  did  not." 

"Well,  parson,"  said  Daddy  Tuggar,  "I  thank 
you  very  kindly  for  what  you  have  said,  but  John 
Walton  has  done  the  business  for  me.  I'm  just 
goin'  to  trust  —  I'm  just  goin'  to  let  myself  go  limber 
and  fall  right  down  on  the  Lord  Jesus'  word.  I 
don't  believe  it  will  break  with  me.  Anyhow,  it's  all 
I  can  do,  and  John  Walton  told  me  to  do  it,  and  I 
alers  found  he  was  about  right."  And  thus  late  in 
20 


458  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

the  twilight  of  life  the  old  man  took  his  pilgrim's 
staff  and  started  homeward. 

As  soon  as  Hunting  recovered  from  his  bitter 
disappointment  and  almost  superstitious  alarm  at 
the  sudden  thwarting  of  his  purpose,  his  wily  and 
scheming  mind  fell  to  work  on  a  new  combination. 
If  he  still  could  induce  Annie  to  be  married  almost 
immediately,  as  he  greatly  hoped,  all  would  be  well. 
If  not,  then  he  would  assume  that  they  were  the 
same  as  married,  and  at  once  take  his  place  as  far 
as  possible  at  the  head  of  the  household,  as  Mr. 
Walton  had  designed.  On  one  hand,  by  tender 
care  and  thoughtfulness  for  them  all,  he  would  place 
Annie  under  the  deepest  obligation ;  on  the  other, 
he  would  gain,  to  the  extent  he  could,  control  of 
her  affairs  and  property.  In  the  latter  purpose  Mr. 
Walton  had  greatly  aided  by  naming  him  one  of  the 
executors  of  his  will,  and  Miss  Eulie,  his  sister-in-law, 
only  was  united  with  him  as  executrix.  Thus  he 
would  substantially  have  his  own  way.  Indeed,  Mr. 
Walton,  in  his  perfect  trust,  meant  that  he  should. 

Having  seen  Annie  quietly  sleeping,  he  started 
for  New  York  to  make  arrangements  for  the  funeral, 
and  look  after  some  personal  matters  that  had  already 
been  neglected  too  long. 

A       His  feelings  on  the  journey  were  not  enviable. 

-^He  had  enough  faith  to  fear  God,  but  not  to  trust 

and  obey.     The  thought  recurred  with  disheartening 

frequency,  "  If  God  is  against  this.  He  will  thwart 

me  every  time." 

The  day  had  closed   in   thick   darkness   and   a 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  459 

storm  before  Annie  awoke  from  the  deep  sleep  which 
the  sedative  had  prolonged.  Though  weak  and  lan 
guid,  she  insisted  on  getting  up.  Her  aunt  almost 
forced  her  to  take  a  little  supper,  and  then  she  went 
instinctively  and  naturally  to  that  room  that  had 
always  been  a  place  of  refuge,  but  which  now  was  the 
chamber  of  death. 

She  turned  up  the  light  that  she  might  look  at 
the  dear,  dear  face.  How  calm  and  noble  it  was  in 
its  deep  repose.  It  did  not  suggest  death — only 
peaceful  sleep. 

With  a  passionate  burst  of  sorrow  she  moaned, 
"  Oh,  father,  let  me  sleep  beside  you,  and  be  at  rest." 

Then  she  took  his  cold  hand,  and  sat  down  me 
chanically  to  watch,  as  in  the  day  and  nights  just 
passed.  But  as  she  became  composed  and  thought 
grew  busy,  the  deep  peace  of  the  sleeper  seemed  im 
parted  to  her.  In  vivid  imagination  she  followed 
him  to  the  home  and  greetings  that  he  had  so  joy 
ously  anticipated.  She  saw  him  meet  her  mother 
and  sister,  and  other  loved  ones  who  had  gone 
before.  She  saw  him  at  his  Saviour's  feet,  blessed 
and  crowned.  She  heard  the  wild  storm  raging 
without  in  the  darkness,  *and  then  thought  of  his 
words,  "  There  is  no  night  there." 

"  Dear  father,"  she  murmured,  "  I  would  not 
call  you  back  if  I  could.  God  give  me  patience  to 
come  to  you  in  His  own  appointed  way." 

Then  she  dwelt  upon  the  strange  events  of  the 
day.  How  near  she  had  come  to  being  a  wife.  Why 
had  she  not  ?  Some  curious  thoughts  flitted  through 


460  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

her  mind  that  the  marriage  should  have  been"  so 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  prevented  on  the  very 
eve  of  consummation. 

V"  It  is  enough  to  know  that  it  was  God's  will," 
she  said,  "  and  my  future  is  still  in  His  hands.  Poor 
Charles,  it  will  be  a  disappointment  to  him  ;  and  yet 
what  difference  will  a  few  weeks  or  months  make  ?  " 

Then  her  father's  words,  "  Be  a  sister  to  Greg 
ory,"  recurred  to  her,  and  she  reproached  herself 
that  she  had  so  long  forgotten  him. 

*  Father  is  safe  home,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am 
leaving  him  to  wander  farther  and  farther  away.  Fa 
ther  told  me  to  be  a  sister  to  him,  and  I  will.  When 
he  gets  well  and  strong,  if  he  ever  does,  he  will  feel 
very  differently ;  and  if  he  is  to  die  (which  God  for 
bid),  what  more  sacred  duty  can  I  have  than  to  plead 
with  him  and  for  him  to  the  last  ?  " 

Pressing  a  kiss  on  her  father's  silent  lips,  she  went 
to  fulfil  one  of  their  last  requests.  She  first  asked  her 
aunt  if  it  would  be  prudent  to  visit  Gregory. 

"  I  hardly  know,  Annie,  what  to  say,"  said  Miss 
Euli-e  in  deep  perplexity;  and  she  told  her  of  what 
had  occurred  between  Gregory,  the  doctor,  and  her 
self,  omitting  his  words  irt  regard  to  Hunting.  "  If 
he  is  not  roused  out  of  his  gloom  and  apathy,  I  fear 
he  will  die,"  concluded  her  aunt ;  "  and  if  you  can't 
rouse  him,  I  don't  know  who  can." 

Annie  gave  her  a  quick,  questioning  glance. 

"  Yes,  Annie,  I  understand,"   she   said    quietly. 
*  He  received  his  worst  injury  before  the  ladder  fell." 

"  Oh,  auntie,  what  shall  I  do?  " 


"  LI  VE,  LIVE  ''—ANNIE' S  APPEAL.  46 1 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  child,  I  can  hardly  tell  you. 
You  are  placed  in  a  difficult  and  delicate  position. 
Perhaps  your  father's  words  were  wisest,  '  Be  a  sis 
ter  to  him.'  At  any  rate,  you  have  more  power  with 
him  than  any  one  else,  and  you  owe  it  to  him  to  do 
all  you  can  to  save  him." 

"  I  am  ready  to  do  anything,  auntie,  for  it  seems 
I  could  never  be  happy  if  he  should  die  ar>  unbe 
liever." 

Annie  stole  noiselessly  to  Gregory's  side,  ana 
motioned  to  the  young  man  who  was  in  charge  to 
withdraw  to  the  next  room.  Gregory  was  still  asleep. 
She  sat  down  by  his  side.  She  was  greatly  shocked 
to  see  how  emaciated  and  pale  he  was.  It  would 
seem  that  he  had  suffered  from  an  illness  of  weeks 
rather  than  days. 

"  He  will  die,"  she  murmured,  with  all  her  old 
terror  at  the  thought  returning.  "  He  will  die,  and 
for  me.  Though  innocent,  I  will  always  feel  that  his 
blood  is  upon  me."  And  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  her  whole  frame  shook  with  a  passion  of 
grief. 

Her  emotion  awoke  him,  and  he  recognized  with 
something  like  awe  the  bowed  head  at  his  side. 

Her  grief  for  her  father,  as  he  supposed,  seemed 
such  a  sacred  thing.  And  yet  he  could  not  bear  to 
see  her  intense  sorrow.  His  heart  ached  to  comfort 
her,  but  what  words  of  consolation  could  such,  as  he 
offer  ?  Still  had  she  not  come  to  him  as  if  for  comfort  ? 
This  thought  touched  him  deeply,  and  he  almost 
cursed  his  unbelieving  soul  that  made  him  dumb  at 


462  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

such  a   time.     What   could   he  say  but   miserable 
commonplaces  in  regard  to  a  bereavement  like  hers  ? 

He  did  not  say  anything,  but  merely  reached  out 
his  hand  and  gently  stroked  her  bowed  head. 

Then  she  knew  he  was  awake,  and  she  took  his 
hand  and  bowed  her  head  upon  it. 

"  Miss  Walton,"  he  said,  in  a  husky  voice,  "  it 
cuts  me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  grieve  so.  But  alas, 
I  do  not  know  how  to  comfort  you,  and  I  can't  say 
trite  words  which  mean  nothing.  After  losing  such 
a  father  as  yours,  what  can  any  one  say?  " 

She  raised  her  head  and  said  impetuously,  "  It's 
not  for  father  I  am  grieving.  He  is  in  heaven — he 
is  not  lost  to  me.  It's  for  you — you.  You  are  break 
ing  my  heart." 

•"  Miss  Walton,"  he  began,  in  much  surprise,  "  I 
don't  understand — " 

"  Why  don't  you  understand?  "  she  interrupted. 
"  What  do  you  think  I  am  made  of?  Do  you  think 
that  you  can  lie  here  and  die  for  me  and  I  go  serenely 
on  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  you  would  blight  the  life 
you  have  saved  ?  " 

His  apathy  was  gone  now.  But  he  was  bewil 
dered,  so  sudden  and  overpowering  was  her  emotion. 
He  only  found  words  to  say: 

"  Miss  Walton,  God  knows^I  am  yours,  body  and 
soul.  What  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  Live — live,"  she  continued,  with  the  same  pas 
sionate  earnestness.  "  I  impose  no  conditions,  I  ask 
nothing  else.  Only  get  well  and  strong  again.  If 
you  will  do  this,  I  have  such  confidence  in  your  bet- 


"LIVE,  LI7E"— ANNIES  APPEAL.  463 

ter  nature,  and  the  many  prayers  laid  up  for  you,  to 
feel  sure  that  all  will  come  out  right.  But  if  you 
will  just  lie  here  and  die,  you  will  imbitter  my  life. 
What  did  the  doctor  tell  you  this  morning  ?  And 
yet  I  will  feel  that  I  am  partly  the  cause.  Oh,  Mr. 
Gregory,  you  may  think  me  foolish,  but  that  strange 
little  omen  of  the  chestnut  burr  is  in  my  mind 
so  often.  I  never  was  superstitious  before,  but  it 
haunts  me.  Don't  you  remember  how  you  stained 
my  hand  with  your  blood  ?  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my 
mind,  and  it  has  for  me  now  a  strange  significance. 
If  I  had  to  remember  through  coming  years  that  you 
died  for  me  all  hopeless  and  unbelieving,  do  you 
think  so  poorly  of  me  as  to  imagine  I  could  be 
happy?  Why  can't  you  be  generous  enough  to 
brighten  the  life  you  have  saved  ?  Among  my  fa 
ther's  last  words  he  said  I  must  be  a  sister  to  you. 
How  can  I  if  you  die  ?  You  would  make  this  dear 
old  place,  that  we  both  love,  full  of  terrible  mem 
ories." 

He  was  deeply  moved,  and  after  a  moment  said, 
"  I  did  not  know  that  you  felt  in  this  way.  I  thought 
the  best  thing  that  I  could  do  was  to  get  out  of  the 
world  and  out  of  the  way.  I  thought  I  knew  you, 
but  I  do  not  half  understand  your  large,  generous 
heart.  For  your  sake  I  will  try  to  get  well,  nor  will 
I  impose  any  conditions  whatever.  But  pardon  me : 
I  am  going  to  ask  one  thing,  which  you  can  grant  or 
not  as  you  choose.  Please  do  not  wrong  me  by 
thinking  that  I  have  any  personal  end  in  view.  I 
have  given  all  that  up  as  truly  as  if  I  were  dead.  I 


464  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

ask  that  you  do  not  speedily  marry  Charles  Hunting 
— not  till  you  are  sure  you  know  him." 

"  Oh  dear,"  exclaimed  Annie  in  real  distress, 
"  this  dreadfu/  quarrel !  What  trouble  it  makes  all 
around ! " 

"  If  your  father,"  continued  Gregory  with  grave 
earnestness,  "  told  you  to  be  a  sister  to  me,  then  I 
have  some  right  to  act  as  a  brother  toward  you. 
But  as  an  honest  man,  with  all  my  faults,  and  with 
your  interests  nearest  my  heart,  I  entreat  you  to 
heed  my  request.  Nay,  more :  I  am  going  to  seem 
ungenerous,  and  refer  for  the  first  and  last  time  to 
the  obligation  you  are  under  to  me.  By  all  the 
influence  I  gained  by  that  act,  I  beg  of  you  to  hesi 
tate  before  you  marry  Charles  Hunting.  Believe 
me,  I  would  not  lay  a  straw  in  the  way  of  your  marry 
ing  a  good  man." 

"Your  words  pain  me  more  than  I  can  tell 
you,"  said  Annie  sadly.  "  I  do  not  understand  them. 
Once  they  would  have  angered  me.  But,  however 
mistaken  you  are,  I  cannot  do  injustice  to  your 
motive. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  your  request  can  injure 
Charles,"  she  continued  musingly.  "  I  have  no 
wish  to  marry  now  for  a  long  time — not  till  these  sad 
scenes  have  faded  somewhat  from  memory.  If  you 
will  only  promise  to  live,  I  will  not  marry  him  till 
you  get  strong  and  well — till  you  can  look  upon  this 
matter  as  a  man — as  a  brother  ought.  But  your 
hostility  must  not  be  unreasonable  or  implaca 
ble.  I  know  you  do  Mr.  Hunting  great  injustice. 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  465 

And  yet  such  is  my  solicitude  for  you  that  I  will  do 
what  almost  seems  to  me  disloyal.  But  I  know 
that  I  owe  a  great  deal  to  you  as  well  as  Charles." 

"  What  I  ask  is  for  your  sake,  not  mine.  I  only 
used  the  obligation  as  a  motive." 

"Well,"  said  Annie,  "I  yield;  and  surely  a  sis 
ter  could  not  do  more  than  I  have  to-night." 

"  And  I  have  simply  done  my  duty,"  he  answered 
quietly.  "And  yet  I  thank- you  truly  You  also 
may  see  the  time  when  you  will  thank  me  more 
than  when  I  interposed  my  worthless  person  between 
you  and  danger." 

"  Please  never  call  yourself  '  worthless '  to  me 
again.  We  never  did  agree,  and  I  fear  we  will  be 
gray  before  we  do.  But  mark  this  :  I  am  never  going 
to  give  you  up,  whatever  happens.  I  shall  obey  dear 
father's  last  words  both  from  duty  and  inclination. 
But  let  us  end  this  painful  conversation.  What  have 
you  eaten  to-day  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  said. 

"  Will  you  eat  something  if  I  bring  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  ask." 

"  Now  you  give  me  hope,"  and  she  vanished, 
sending  the  regular  watcher  back  to  his  post. 

Gregory  found  it  no  difficult  task  to  eat  the 
dainty  little  supper  she  brought.  -She  had  broken 
the  malign  spell  he  was  under.  As  we  have  seen, 
his  was  a  physical  nature  peculiarly  subject  to  men 
tal  conditions. 

Soon  after  she  said,  in  a  low  tone  meant  only  for 
his  ear,  "  Good  night,  my  poor   suffering   brother. 
20* 


466  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

We  all  three  will  understand  each  other  better  in 
God's  good  time." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  said,  with  a  different  meaning. 
"  You  have  made  me  feel  that  I  am  not  alone  and 
uncared  for  in  the  world,  though  I  cannot  call  you 
sister  yet.  Good  night." 

Annie  went  back  to  her  father's  side,  and  remained 
till  her  aunt  almost  forced  her  away. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  on  the  events  of  the 
next  few  days.  Such  is  our  earthly  lot,  nearly  all  can 
foresee  them  by  recalling  their  own  sad  experience  : 
the  hushed  and  solemn  household,  even  the  chil 
dren  speaking  low  and  treading  softly,  as  if  they 
might  awake  one  whom  only  "  the  last  trump  "  could 
arouse. 

John  Walton's  funeral  was  no  formal  pageant,  but 
an  occasion  of  sincere  and  general  mourning.  Even 
those  whose  lives  and  character  were  the  opposite  of 
his,  had  the  profoundest  respect  for  him,  and  the  en 
tire  community  united  in  honoring  his  memory. 

Perhaps  the  most  painful  time  of  all  to  the  strick 
en  family  was  the  evening  after  their  slow,  dreary 
ride  to  the  village  cemetery.  Then,  as  not  before, 
they  realized  their  loss. 

Annie  felt  that  her  best  solace  would  be  in  trying 
to  cheer  others.  She  had  seen  Gregory  but  seldom 
and  briefly  since  her  last  interview,  but  had  been 
greatly  comforted  by  his  decided  change  for  the 
better.  He  had  kept  his  word.  Indeed,  it  was 
only  the  leaden  hand  of  despondency  that  kept  him 
down,  and  he  rallied  from  the  moment  it  was  lifted. 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  '  '—ANNIE'S  APPEAL, ]  467 

This  evening  he  was  dressed  and  sitting  by  the  fire. 
As  she  entered,  in  her  deep  mourning,  his  look 
was  so  wistful  and  kind,  so  eloquent  with  sympathy, 
that  instead  of  cheering  him,  as  she  intended,  she 
sat  down  on  a  low  ottoman,  and  burying  her  face 
in  her  hands,  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"  Oh  that  I  knew  how  to  comfort  you  !  "  said 
Gregory  in  the  deepest  distress.  "  I  cannot  bear  to 
see  you  surfer." 

He  rose  with  difficulty  and  came  to  her  side, 
saying,  "  What  can  I  do,  Miss  Walton  ?  Would  that 
I  could  prevent  you  from  ever  shedding  another  tear 
at  any  cost  to  myself!  " 

His  sympathy  was  so  true  and  strong,  that  it  was 
a  luxury  for  her  to  receive  it ;  and  she  had  kept  up  so 
long,  that  tears  were  nature's  own  relief. 

At  last  he  said  timidly,  hesitatingly,  as  if  ventur 
ing  on  forbidden  ground,  "  I  think  the  Bible  says 
that  in  heaven  all  tears  will  be  wiped  away.  Your 
father  is  surely  there." 

"  Would  that  I  were  therewith  him,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Not  yet,  Annie,  not  yet,"  he  said  gently. 
"  Think  how  dark  this  world  would  be  to  more  than 
one  if  you  were  not  in  it." 

"  But  will  you  never  seek  this  dear  home  of  rest  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  The  way  of  life  is  closed  to  me,"  he  said  sadly: 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Gregory !  Who  is  it  that  says,  *  I  am 
the  way  '  ?  " 

"  But  he  says  to  me,  '  Depart.' " 

"  And  yet  I,  knowing  all — I,  a  weak,  sinful  creature 


468  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

like  yourself,  say,  Come  to  Him.  I  am  better  and 
kinder  than  He  who  died  for  us  all !  What  strange, 
sad  logic.  Good  night,  Walter.  You  will  not  always 
so  wrong  your  best  Friend." 

Gregory's  despairing  conviction  that  his  day  of 
mercy  was  past  was  hardly  proof  against  her  words 
and  manner,  but  he  was  in  thick  darkness  and  saw 
no  way  out. 

Annie  went  down  to  her  aunt  and  Hunting  in 
the  parlor.  "  Why  will  Mr.  Gregory  be  so  hard  and 
unbelieving?"  she  said  tearfully. 

"  If  you  knew  him  as  well  as  I  do  you  would  un 
derstand,"  said  Hunting  politicly,  and  then  changed 
the  conversation. 

He  was  consumed  by  a  jealousy  which  he  dared 
not  show.  Annie's  manner  toward  him  was  all  he 
could  ask,  and  he  felt  sure  of  her  now.  But  it  was 
the  future  he  dreaded.  He  felt  sure  that  Gregory 
had  formed  an  attachment  for  Annie,  whether  she 
knew  it  or  not ;  and  unless  he  could  secure  her  by 
marriage,  his  enemy  might  find  means  of  tearing  off 
his  mask.  With  desperate  earnestness  he  resolved 
to  press  his  suit. 

His  course  since  JVlr.  Walton's  death  had  been 
such  as  to  win  Annie's  sincerest  gratitude.  When 
action  rather  than  moral  support  was  required,  he 
was  strong,  and  no  one  could  be  more  delicately 
thoughtful  of  her  feelings  and  kind  to  all  than  he 
had  been. 

"  Dear  Charles,"  said  Annie  when  they  were 
alone.  "  What  would  I  have  done  without  you  in 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  '—ANNIE'S  APPEAL. 

all  these  dreary  days  !  How  you  have  saved  me 
from  all  painful  contact  with  the  world  ! " 

"  And  so  I  ever  wish  to  shield  you,"  said  Hunt 
ing.  "  Will  you  not,  as  your  fat'her  purposed,  give 
me  the  right  at  once  ?  " 

"  You  have  the  right,  Charles.  I  ask  no  more  than 
you  have  done  and  are  doing.  But  do  not  urge 
marriage  now.  I  yielded  then  for  father's  sake,  not 
my  own.  My  heart  is  too  sore  and  crushed  to  think 
of  it  now.  After  all,  what  difference  can  a  few 
months  make  to  you  ?  Be  generous.  Give  me  a 
respite,  and  I  will  make  you  a  better  wife  and  a 
happier  home." 

"  But  it  looks,  Annie,  as  if  you  could  not  trust 
me,"  he  said  gloomily. 

"  No,  Charles,"  she  said  gravely,  "  it  looks  rather 
as  if  you  distrusted  me;  and  you  must  learn  to  trust 
me  implicitly.  Both  out  of  love  for  you  as  well  as 
justice  to  myself  I  exercise  my  woman's  right  of 
naming  the  day.  In  the  mean  time  I  give  you  my 
perfect  confidence.  No  words  of  others — nothing 
but  your  own  acts,  can  disturb  it,  and  of  this  I  have 
no  fear." 

He  did  not  seek  to  disguise  his  deep  disappoint 
ment.  -  While  she  felt  sorry  for  him,  she  remained 
firm,  and  he  felt  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  urge 
her. 

Annie  was  not  one  to  carelessly  give  pain  to  any, 
much  less  to  those  she  loved.  And  yet  her  mind 
was  strong  and  well-balanced.  She  knew  it  was 
no  great  misfortune  to  Hunting  to  wait  a  few  months 


470 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


when  her  own  feelings  and  the  duty  she  owed  another 
required  it.  "  When  Gregory  gets  strong  and  well 
and  back  to  business,"  she  thought,  "  he  will  wonder 
at  himself.  I  have  no  right  to  almost  destroy  him 
now  in  his  weakness  by  doing  that  which  can  be 
done  better  at  another  time;  and  indeed,  for  my 
own  sake,  I  should  have  required  delay." 

The  next  day  Hunting  was  reluctantly  compelled 
to  go  to  the  city.  Somewhat  to  Annie's  surprise, 
Gregory  made  no  effort  to  secure  her  society.  In 
her  frank,  sisterly  regard  she  was  slow  in  understand 
ing  that  her  presence  caused  regretful  pain  to  him. 
But  he  seemed  resolutely  bent  upon  getting  well, 
and  was  gaining  rapidly.  He  walked  out  a  little 
while  during  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  her  eyes  fol 
lowed  him  wistfully  as  he  moved  slowly  and  feebly 
along  the  garden  walk.  She  saw,  with  quickly  start 
ing  tears,  that  he  went  to  the  rustic  seat  by  the 
brook  where  they  had  spent  that  memorable  Sun 
day  afternoon,  and  that  he  stood  in  long,  deep 
thought. 

When  he  came  back  she  offered  to  read  for  him. 

"  Not  now — not  yet,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I  know 
my  weakness,  and  would  be  true  to  my  word." 

"  Why  do  you  shun  me  so  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  May  you  never  understand  from  experience," 
he  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  sadder  than  tears,  and 
passed  on  up  to  his  room. 

And  yet,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  his  course 
was  the  best  policy,  for  it  awakened  stronger  respect 
and  sympathy  on  her  part. 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  471 

The  next  morning  ushered  in  the  first  of  the 
dreamy  Indian-summer  days,  when  nature,  as  if 
grieved  over  the  havoc  of  the  frost,  would  hide  the 
dismantled  trees  and  dead  flowers  by  a  purple  haze, 
and  seek,  as  do  fading  beauties,  to  disguise  the 
ravages  of  time  by  drawing  over  her  withered  face  a 
deceptive  vail. 

Gregory  felt  so  much  better  that  he  thought  he 
could  venture  to  make  a  parting  call  on  Daddy  Tug- 
gar.  He  found  the  old  man  smoking  on  his  porch, 
and  his  reception  was  as  warm  and  demonstrative  as 
his  first  had  been,  a  month  ago,  though  of  a  different 
nature.  Gregory  lighted  a  cigar  and  sat  down 
beside  him. 

"  I'm  wonderful  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Tug- 
gar.  "  To  think  that  I  should  have  cussed  ypu, 
when  it  was  the  good  Lord  that  brought  you 
here  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Gregory. 

"Certain  I  do.  Would  that  house  be  there? 
Wouldn't  all  our  hearts  be  broke  for  Miss  Annie  if  it 
wasn't  for  you  ?  " 

Gregory  felt  that  his  heart  was  "  broke  "  for  her 
as  it  was,  but  he  said : 

"  It  was  my  taking  her  out  to  walk  that  caused 
her  danger.  So  you  wouldn't  have  lost  her  if  I  had 
not  come." 

"  You  didn't  knowinly  git  her  in  danger,  and  you 
did  knowinly  git  her  out,  and  that's  enough  for 
me,'  said  the  old  man. 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Tuggar,  if  I  had  broken  my 


472  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  2URK. 

neck  it  would  have  been  a  little  thing  compared 
with  saving  the  life  of  such  a  woman  as  Miss  Wal 
ton.  Still,  I  fear  the  Lord  has  not  much  to  do  with 
me." 

"  And  have  you  been  all  this  time  with  John 
Walton  and  Miss  Annie  and  still  feel  that  way?" 

"  It's  not  their  fault." 

"  I  believe  that.  Are  you  willing  to  say  you  are 
a  great  sinner  ?  " 

"  Of  course.     What  else  am  I  ?  " 

"That's  it— that's  it,"  cried  the  old  man  delight 
edly.  "  Now  you're  all  right.  That's  just  where 
I  was.-' When  John  Walton  bid  me  good-by,  he 
asked  one  question  that  let  more  light  into  my  thick 
head  than  all  the  readin'  and  preachin'  arid  prayin' 
I  ever  heard!^-He  asked,  *  Whom  did  Jesus  Christ 
come  to  save  ?  '  Answer  that." 

"  The  Bible  says  he  came  to  save  sinners,"  re- 
"plied  Gregoiy,  now  deeply  interested. 

^  Well,  I  should  think  that  meant  you  and  me," 
said  Mr. Tuggar  emphatically.  "Anyhow,  I  know  it 
means  me.  John  Walton  told  me  that  all  I  had  to 
do  was  to  just  trust  the  Saviour — not  of  good  peo 
ple — but  of  sinners,  and  do  the  best  I  could  ;  and 
I've  just  done  it,  and  I'm  all  right  Mr.  Gregory,  I'm 
all  right.  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  stop  swearin', 
but  I'm  a-tryin'.  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  ever 
get  under  my  old  ugly  temper,  but  I'm  a-tryin'  and 
a-prayin'.  f  But  whether  I  can  or  not,  I'm  all  right, 
for  the  good  Lord  came  to  save  sinners ;  and  if  that 
don't  mean  me,  what's  the  use  of  words  ?^J 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  4/3 

"But  can  you  trust  Him?"  asked  Gregory. 

"Certain  I  can.  Wasn't  John  Walton  an  honest 
^^Wasn't  Jesus  Christ  honest  ?  ^Didn't  he 
know  what  He  come  for?" 

"  Admitting  that  He  came  to  save  sinners,  how 
can  you  be  sure  He  will  save  all?  He  might  save 
you,  and  not  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Tuggar,  "  I  hadn't  been  home 
long  afore  that  question  .come  up  to  me,  and  I 
thought  on  it  a  long  time.  I  smoked  well-nigh  a 
hundred  pipes  on  it  afore  I  got  it  settled,  but  'tis 
settled,  and  when  I  settle  a  thing  I  don't  go  both- 
erin'  back  about  it.  But  like  enough  't  won't  satisfy 
you." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  would  like  to  hear  your  conclu 
sion." 

"  Well,  I  argued  it  out  to  myself.  I  says,  sup 
pose  there's  some  sinners  too  bad,  or  too  some- 
thin'  or  other,  for  the  Lord  to  save,  and  suppose  you 
are  one  of  them,  ain't  'lected,  as  my  wife  says. 
If  I  could  be  an  unbelievin'  sinner  for  eighty  years, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  if  any  body  wasn't  'lected  I 
wasn't.  I  was  dreadfully  down,  I  tell  yer,  for  I'd  set 
my  heart  on  bein'  John  Walton's  neighbor  again. 
After  I'd  smoked  a  good  many  pipes,  I  cussed  my 
self  for  an  old  fool.  There,  you've  brought  your  case 
into  court,  I  says,  and  you're  goin*  to  give  it  up  afore 
it's  argued.  Then  I  argued  it.  I  was  honest,  you  may 
be  sure.  It  wouldn't  do  me  any  good  to  pettifog  in 
this  matter.  First  I  says,  if  there  was  any  doubt 
about  the  Lord  savin'  all  sinners  who  wanted  him 


474 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


to,  John  Walton  orter  have  spoken  of  it,  and  from 
what  I  know  of  the  man  he  would.  Then  I  says, 
arter  all  it's  the  Lord  I've  got  to  deal  with.  Now 
what  kind  of  a  Lord  is  he  ?  Then  I  commenced 
rememberin'  all  that  Miss  Eulie  and  Miss  Annie  had 
read  to  me  about  Him,  and  all  I'd  heard,  and  I  got 
my  wife  to  read  some,  and  my  hopes  grew  every 
minute.  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Gregory,  it  was  a 
queer  crowd  He  often  had  around  him.  I'd  kinder 
felt  at  home  among  'em,  specially  with  that  swearin* 
fisherman,  Peter.  Well,  the  upshot  of  it  was,  I 
couldn't  find  that  he  ever  turned  one  sinner  away. 
Then  why  should  he  me  ?  Then  my  wife,  as  she 
was  readin',  come  across  the  words,  '  Him  that 
coraeth  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  I'd  heard 
them  words  afore  often,  but  it  seemed  now  as  the 
first  time,  and  I  just  shouted,  '  I've  got  his  word 
for  it,'  and  my  wife  thought  I  was  crazy  sure  'nuff, 
for  she  didn't  know  what  I  was  drivin'  at.  And 
now,  Mr.  Gregory,  you're  just  shut  up  to  two  things, 
just  two  things.  Either  the  Lord  Jesus  will  save 
every  sinner  that  comes  to  Him,  or  He  ain't  honest, 
and  don't  mean  what  he  says,  and  won't  do  as  he 
used  to.  I  tell  yer  I'm  settled,  better  settled  than 
yonder  mountain.  I  just  let  myself  go  limber  right 
down  upon  the  promise,  and  it's  all  right.  I'm  going 
to  be  John  Walton's  neighbor  again." 

Gregory  was  more  affected  by  the  old  man's 
quaint  talk  than  he  would  have  believed  possible. 
It  seemed  true  that  he  was  "  shut  up  "  to  one  or  the 
other  of  the  alternatives  presented.  He  commenced 


"LIVE,  LIVE"— ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  47.5 

pacing  up  and  down  the  little  porch  in  deep  thought. 
Mr.  Tuggar  puffed  away  at  his  pipe  with  such  vigor 
that  he  was  exceedingly  beclouded,  however  clear  his 
mind.  At  last  Gregory  said  : 

"  I'  shall  think  over  what  you  have  said,  very  care 
fully,  for  I  admit  it  has  a  great  deal  of  force  to  my 
mind." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Tuggar,  "  argue  it  out, 
just  as  I  did.  Show  yourself  no  favors,  and  be  fair 
to  yourself,  and  you  can't  get  away  from  my  conclu 
sion.  You've  got  to  come  to  it." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  come  to  it,"  said  Greg 
ory  gravely. 

."  I  should  think  you  would.  There'll  be  some 
good  neighbors  up  there,  Mr.  Gregory ;  these  Wai- 
tons  are  all  bound  to  be  there.  Miss  Annie  would 
be  kinder  good  company,  eh,  Mr.  Gregory  ?  " 

In  spite  of  himself  he  flushed  deeply  under  the 
old  man's  keen  scrutiny. 

"There's  one  thing  that's  mighty  'plexing  to  me," 
said  Mr.  Tuggar,  led  to  the  subject  by  its  subtle  con 
nection  with  Gregory's  blush,  "  and  that's  why  the 
Lord  didn't  keep  John  Walton  alive  a  few  minutes 
longer,  so  that  the  marriage  could  take  place." 

Gregory  gave  a  great  start.  "  What  marriage  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  about  it  ? "  said  Mr 
Tuggar  in  much  surprise. 

"  No,  nothing  at  all." 

"  Then  perhaps  I  orter  not  speak  of  it." 

"  Certainly  not,  if  you  don't  think  it  right." 


476  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR 

"  Well,  I've  said  so  much  I  might  as  well  say  it 
all,"  said  the  old  man  musingly.  "  It's  no  secret,  as 
I  know  of,"  and  he  told  Gregory  how  nearly  Annie 
became  being  a  wife. 

Gregory  drew  a  long  breath  and  looked  deathly 
pale  and  faint. 

"  Well,  noW,  I'd  no  idea  that  you'd  be  so  struck 
of  a  heap,"  said  the  old  man,  in  still  deeper  sur 
prise. 

"  God's  hand  was  in  that,"  murmured  Gregory, 
"  God's  hand  was  in  that." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  now?  Well,  it  does  seem 
kinder  cur'us,  and  per'aps  it  was,  for  somehow  I 
never  took  to  that  Hunting,  though  he  seems  all 
right." 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Tuggar,"  said  Gregory  rising; 
"you  have  given  me  a  good  deal  to  think  about, 
and  I'm  going  to  think,  and  act,  too,  if  I  can.  I  am 
going  to  New  York  to-morrow,  and  one  of  the  first 
things  I  do  will  be  to  fill  your  pipe  for  a  long  time," 
and  he  pressed  the  old  man's  hand  most  cordially. 

"  Let  yourself  go  limber  when  you  come  to  trust, 
and  it  will  be  all  right,"  were  Daddy  Tuggar's  last 
words  as  he  balanced  himself  on  his  crutches  in 
parting. 

Gregory  found  Annie  in  the  parlor,  and  he  said, 
"  I  have  good  news  for  you,  Daddy  Tuggar  is  a 
Christian." 

Annie  sprang  joyfully  up  and  said,  "  I'm  going 
over  to  see  him  at  once." 

When  she  returned,  Gregory  was  quietly  reading 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  477 

in  the  parlor,  showing  thus  that  he  had  no  wish  to 
avoid  her. 

She  came  directly  to  him  and  said,  "  Daddy  Tug- 
gar  says  that  you  propose  going  home  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  really,  Miss  Walton,  I  have  no  home  to  go 
to  ;  but  I-  expect  to  return  to  the  city." 

"  Now  I  protest  against  it." 

"  I'm  glad  you  do." 

"  Then  you  won't  go." 

"  Yes,  I  must ;  but  I'm  glad  you  don't  wish  me 
to  go." 

"  Why  need  you  go  yet?  You  ought  not.  You 
should  wait  till  you  are  strong." 

"  That  is  just  why  I  go — to  get  strong.  I  never 
could  here,  with  you  looking  so  kindly  at  me  as  you 
do  now.  You  see  I  am  as  frank  as  I  promised  to  be. 
So  please  say  no  more,  for  you  cannot  and'you  ought 
not  to  change  my  purpose." 

"  Oh  dear,"  cried  Annie,  "  how  one's  faith  is 
tried.  Why  need  this  be  so  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  "  what  little  faith  I 
ever  had  has  been  quite  revived  this  afternoon. 
Daddy  Tuggar  has  been  *  talking  religion '  to  me, 
and  pardon  me  for  saying  it,  I  found  his  words 
more  convincing  than  even  yours." 

"  I  am  not  jealous  of  him,"  said  Annie  gladly. 

"  I  can't  help  thinking  that  God  does  see  and  care, 
in  that  he  prevented  your  marriage." 

Annie  blushed  deeply,  and  said  coldly,  "  I  am 
sorry  you  touched  upon  that  subject,"  and  she  left 
the  room. 


478 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR 


Gregory  went  quietly  on  with  his  reading,  or 
seemed  to.  Indeed,  he  made  a  strong  effort,  and 
succeeded,  for  he  was  determined  to  master  himself 
outwardly. 

She  soon  relented  an.d  came  back.  When  she 
saw  him  apparently  so  undisturbed,  the  thought 
came  to  her,  "  He  has  given  me  up  truly.  There  is 
nothing  of  the  lover  in  that  calmness,  and  he  makes 
no  effort  to  win  my  favor."  But  she  said,  "  Mr. 
Gregory,  I  fear  I  hurt  your  feelings.  You  certainly 
did  mine.  I  cannot  endure  the  injustice  you  persist 
in  doing  Mr.  Hunting." 

"  I  only  repeat  your  own  words,  '  We  all  three 
will  understand  each  other  in  God's  good  time  ; '  and 
after  what  I  heard  to-day  I  have  the  feeling  that  He 
is  watching  over  you." 

"  Won't  you  promise  not  to  speak  any  more  on 
this  subject?" 

"  Yes,  for  I  have  done  my  duty." 

She  took  up  his  book  and  read  to  him,  thus  giv 
ing  one  more  hour  of  mingled  pain  and  pleasure  ; 
though  when  he  thought  how  long  it  would  be 
before  he  heard  that  sweet  voice  again,  if  ever,  his 
pain  almost  reached  the  point  of  anguish.  As  she 
turned  toward  him  and  saw  his  look  of  suffering, 
she  realized  somewhat  the  effort  he  made  to  keep 
up  before  her. 

She  came  to  him  and  said,  "  I  was  about  to  ask 
a  favor,  but  perhaps  it's  hardly  right." 

"  Ask  it,  any  way,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"  I  don't  urge  it,  but  I  expect  Mr.  Hunting  this 


"  LI  VE,  LIVE  ''—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  479 

evening.  Won't  you  come  down  to  supperand  meet 
him  ?  " 

"  For  your  sake  I  will,  now  that  I  have  gained 
some  self-control.  I  am  not  one  to  quarrel  in  a 
lady's  parlor  under  any  provocation.  For  your  sake 
I  will  treat  Mr.  Hunting  like  a  gentleman,  and  make 
my  last  evening  with  you  as  little  of  a  restraint  as 
possible." 

"  Thank  you — thank  you.  You  now  promise  to 
make  it  one  of  peculiar  happiness." 

Annie  drove  to  the  depot  for  Hunting,  and  told 
of  Gregory's  consent  to  meet  him.  She  said,  "  Now 
is  your  opportunity,  Charles.  Meet  him  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  enmity  impossible." 

His  manner  was  not  very  reassuring,  but,  in  his 
pleasure  at  hearing  that  Gregory  was  soon  to  leave, 
and  that  in  his  absence  he  had  not  been  able  to  dis 
turb  Annie's  confidence  in  him,  promised  to  do  the 
best  he  could. 

Annie  was  nervously  excited  as  the  moment  of 
meeting  approached,  and,  somewhat  to  her  surprise, 
Hunting  seemed  to  share  her  uneasiness. 

Gregory  did  not  come  down  till  the  family  were 
all  in  the  supper-room.  Annie  was  struck  with  his 
appearance  as  he  entered.  Though  his  left  arm  was 
in  a  sling,  there  was  a  graceful  and  almost  courtly 
dignity  in  his  bearing,  a  brilliancy  in  his  eyes  and 
firmness  about  his  mouth  which  proved  that  he  had 
nerved  himself  for  the  ordeal  and  would  maintain  him 
self.  Instantly  she  thought  of  the  time  when  he 
first  appeared  in  that  room,  a  half-wrecked, 


480  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

of  the  world.  Now  he  looked  and  acted  like  a  noble 
man. 

Hunting,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  shuffling  and 
embarrassed  manner ;  but  he  approached  Gregory 
and  held  out  his  hand,  saying: 

"  Come,  Mr.  Gregory,  let  by-gones  be  by-gones." 

But  Gregory  only  bowed  with  the  perfection  of 
distant  courtesy,  and  said  : 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Hunting,"  and  took  his 
seat. 

Both  Hunting  and  Annie  blushed  deeply  and 
resentfully.  After  they  were  seated,  Annie  looked 
toward  Hunting  to  say  "  grace  "  as  usual,  but  he 
could  not  before  the  man  who  knew  him  so  well, 
and  there  was  another  moment  of  deep  embarrass 
ment,  while  a  sudden  satirical  light  gleamed  from 
Gregory's  eyes.  Annie  saw  it,  and  it  angered  her. 

Then  Gregory  broke  the  ice  with  quiet,  well-bred 
ease.  In  natural  tones  he  commenced  conversation, 
addressing  now  one,  now  another,  in  such  a  way  that 
they  could  not  but  answer  him  in  like  manner.  He 
asked  Hunting  after  the  news  and  gossip  of  the  city 
as  naturally  as  if  they  had  met  that  evening  for  the 
first  time.  He  even  had  pleasant  repartee  with  John 
nie  and  Susie,  who  had  now  come  to  like  him  very 
much ;  and  his  manner  toward  Miss  Eulie  was 
peculiarly  gentle  and  respectful,  for  he  was  deeply 
grateful  to  her.  Indeed,  that  good  lady  could  scarcely 
believe  her  eyes  and  ears  ;  but  Gregory  had  always 
been  an  enigma  to  her.  At  first  he  spoke  to  Annie 
less  frequently  than  to  any  one,  for  he  dreaded  the 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  "—ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  48 1 

cloud  upon  her  brow  and  her  outspoken  truthfulness, 
and  he  was  determined  the  evening  should  pass  off 
as  he  had  planned.  Though  so  crippled  that  his  food 
had  to  be  prepared  for  him,  he  only  made  it  a  matter 
of  graceful  jest,  and  gave  ample  proof  that  a  highly 
bred  and  cultured  man  can  be  elegant  in  manners 
under  circumstances  the  most  adverse. 

Even  Annie  thawed  and  relented  under  his 
graceful  tact,  and  felt  that  perhaps  he  was  doing  all 
she  could  expect  in  view  of  his  simple  promise  to 
"  treat  Hunting  like  a  gentleman,  for  her  sake." 
But  it  had  pained  her  deeply  that  he  had  not  met 
Hunting's  advances  ;  and  she  saw  that  though  per 
fectly  courteous,  he  was  not  committing  himself  in 
the  slightest  degree  toward  reconciliation. 

Moreover,  she  was  excessively  annoyed  that 
Hunting  acted  so  poor  a  part.  It  is  as  natural  for  a 
woman  to  take  pride  in  her  lover  as  to  breathe,  but 
she  could  have  no  pride  in  Hunting  that  evening. 
He  seemed  annoyed  both  with  himself  and  Gregory 
beyond  endurance,  though  he  strove  to  disguise  it. 
He  knew  that  he  was  appearing  to  disadvantage, 
and  this  increased  his  embarrassment,  and  he  was 
most  unhappy  in  his  words  and  manner.  Yet  he 
could  take  exception  at  nothing,  for  Gregory's  pol 
ished  armor  was  perfect,  and  he  grew  more  brilliant 
and  entertaining  as  he  saw  his  adversary  losing 
ground. 

But  all  were  glad  when  the  supper-hour  was 
over  and  they  could  adjourn  to  the  parlor.  Here 
Gregory  changed  his  tactics,  and  drawing  the  children 

21 


482  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

aside,  told  them  a  marvellous  tale  as  a  good-by 
souvenir,  thus  causing  deep  regret  on  their  part  for 
his  departure.  He  next  drew  Miss  Eulie  into  an. 
animated  discussion  upon  a  subject  he  knew  her  to 
be  interested  in.  From  this  he  made  the  conver 
sation  general,  and  continued  to  speak  to  Hunting  as 
naturally  as  if  there  were  no  differences  between 
them.  But  all  saw  that  he  was  growing  very  weary, 
and  early  in  the  evening  he  quietly  rose  and  excused 
himself,  saying  that  he  needed  rest  for  his  journey 
on  the  morrow.  There  was  the  same  polite,  distant 
bow  to  Hunting  as  at  first,  and  in  deep  disappoint 
ment  Annie  admitted  that  nothing  had  been  gained 
by  the  interview  from  which  she  hoped  so  much. 
They  were  no  nearer  reconciliation.  Even  while 
Gregory's  manner  had  compelled  respect  and  even 
admiration,  it  had  annoyed  her  excessively,  for  he 
had  made  her  lover  appear  to  disadvantage,  and  she 
was  almost  vexed  with  Hunting  that  he  had  not 
been  equal  to  the  occasion.  She  was  sorry  that  she 
had  asked  Gregory  to  come  down  while  Hunting 
was  present,  and  yet  courtesy  seemed  to  require  that 
he  should  be  present,  since  he  was  now  sufficiently 
well.  Altogether  it  was  a  silent  little  group  that 
Gregory  left  in  the  parlor,  as  all  were  busy  with  their 
own  thoughts. 

Hunting  determined  to  remain  the  following  day 
and  see  Gregory  off  and  out  of  the  way  forever,  he 
hoped. 

Tht  next  morning  Gregory  did  not  come  down 
to  breakfast.  But  at  about  ten  o'clock  he  started 


"LIVE,  LIVE"— ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  483 

out  for  a  short  farewell  stroll  about  the  old  place. 
Annie  joined  him  in  the  garden. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  were  generous  last  evening," 
she  said.  "  Mr.  Hunting  met  you  halfway." 

"  Did  I  not  do  just  what  I  promised  ?  " 

"  But  I  was  in  hopes  you  would  do  more,  espe 
cially  when  the  way  was  opened." 

"  Do  you  think,  Miss  Walton,  that  Mr.  Hunting's 
manner  and  feelings  toward  me  were  sincerely  cor 
dial  and  friendly  ?  Was  it  the  promptings  of  his 
heart,  or  your  influence,  that  led  him  to  put  out  his 
hand?" 

Annie  blushed  in  conscious  confusion.  "  I  fear  I 
will  never  reconcile  you/'  she  said  sadly. 

"  I  fear  not,"  he  replied.  '  There  must  be  a 
great  change  in  us  both  before  you  can.  Though 
the  reason  I  give  was  a  sufficient  one  for  not  taking 
his  hand  in  friendly  feeling,  it  was  not  the  one  that 
influenced  me.  I  would  not  have  taken  it  under  any 
circumstances." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  you  grieve  me  most  deeply,"  she 
said  in  a  tone  of  real  distress.  "  Won't  you,  when 
you  come  to  part,  take  his  hand  for  my  sake,  and  let 
a  little  of  the  ice  thaw?" 

"  No,"  he  said  almost  sternly ;  "  not  even  for  your 
sake,  for  whom  I  would  die,  will  I  be  dishonest  with 
myself  or  him,  and  you  are  not  one  to  ask  me  to  act 
a  lie." 

"  You  wound  me  deeply,  sir/*  she  said  coldly. 

"  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend,"  he  replied. 

She  did  not  answer. 


484 


OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 


"  We  shall  not  part  in  this  way,  Annie,"  he  said 
in  a  low,  troubled  voice. 

"  The  best  I  can  do  is  to  give  you  credit  for  very 
mistaken  sincerity,"  she  answered  sadly. 

"  That  is  all  now,  I  fear,"  replied  he  gently. 
"  Good-by,  Annie  Walton.  We  are  really  parting 
now.  My  mission  to  you  is  past,  and  we  go  our  dif 
ferent  ways.  You  will  never  believe  anything  I  can 
say  on  this  painful  subject,  and  I  would  not  have 
spoken  of  it  again  of  my  own  accord.  Keep  your 
pro-mise  to  me,  and  all  yet  will  be  well,  I  believe. 
As  that  poor  woman  who  saved  us  in  the  mountains 
said, '  There  will  at  least  be-one  good  thing  about  me. 
Whether  I  can  pray  for  myself  or  not,  I  shall  daily 
/  pray  for  you  ;  '  and  I  feel  that  God,  who  shielded  you 
so  strangely  once,  will  still  guard  you.  Do  not 
grieve  because  I  go  away  with  pain  in  my  heart. 
It's  a  better  kind  of  suffering  than  that  with  which 
I  came,  and  lasting  good  may  come  out  of  it,  for  my 
old  reckless  despair  is  gone.  If  I  ever  do  become  a 
good  man — a  Christian — I  shall  have  you  to  thank  ; 
and  even  heaven  would  be  happier  if  you  were  the 
means  of  bringing  me  there." 

"  When  you  speak  that  way,  Walter,"  she  said, 
tears  starting  to  her  eyes,  "  I  must  forgive  every 
thing ;  and  when  you  become  a  real  Christian  you 
will  love  even  your  enemy.  Please  take  this  little 
package  from  me,but  do  not  open  it  till  you  reach  the 
quiet  and  seclusion  of  your  own  rooms.  Good-by, 
my  brother,  for  as  such  my  father  told  me  to  act 
and  feel  toward  you,  and  from  my  heart  I  obey." 


"  LIVE,  LIVE  '  '—ANNIE' S  APPEAL.  48 5 

He  looked  at  her  with  moistened  eyes,  but  did 
not  trust  himself  to  answer,  and  without  another 
word  they  returned  to  the  house. 

Gregory's  leave-taking  from  the  rest  of  the  house 
hold  was  no  mere  form.  Especially  was  this  true  of 
Miss  Eulie,  to  whom  he  said  most  feelingly : 

"  Miss  Morton,  my  mother  could  not  have  been 
kinder  or  more  patient  with  me." 

When  he  pressed  Zibbie's  hand  and  left  a  bank 
note  in  it,  she  broke  out  in  the  broadest  Scotch  : 

"  Maister  Gregory,  an*  when  I  think  me  ould 
gray  head  would  ha'  been  oot  in  the  stourm  wf  na 
home  to  cover  it,  I  pray  the  gude  God  to  shelter 
yours  fra  a'  the  cold  blasts  o*  the  wourld.' 

Silent  Hannah,  alike  favored,  seemed  afflicted 
with  a  sudden  attack  of  St.  Vitus*  dance,  so  indefi 
nite  was  the  number  of  her  courtesies  :  while  Jeff,  on 
the  driver's  seat,  looked  as  solemn  as  if  he  were  to 
drive  Gregory  to  the  cemetery  instead  of  the  depot. 

At  the  moment  of  final  parting,  Gregory  merely 
took  Annie's  hand  and  looked  into  her  eyes  with  an 
expression  that  caused  them  speedily  to  droop,  tear- 
blinded. 

To  Hunting  he  had  bowed  his  farewell  in  the 
parlor. 

When  the  last  object  connected  with  his  old  home 
was  hidden  from  his  wistful,  lingering  gaze,  he  said, 
with  the  sorrow  of  one  who  watches  the  sod  placed 
above  the  grave  of  his  dearest : 

"  So  it  all  ends." 


486  OPENING  A    CHESTNUT  BURR. 

But  when  in  his  city  apartments,  which  never 
before  seemed  such  a  cheerless  mockery  of  the  idea 
of  home,  he  opened  the  package  Annie  had  given 
him — when  he  found  a  small,  worn  Bible,  inscribed 
with  the  words,  "  To  my  dear  little  daughter  Annie 
from  mother,"  and  written  beneath,  in  a  child's  hand, 
"  I  thank  you,  dear  mother.  I  will  read  it  every  day," 
he  sprang  up,  and  exclaimed  in  strongest  feeling, 
"  No,  all  has  not  ended  yet." 

When  he  became  sufficiently  calm  he  again 
took  up  the  Bible,  and  found  the  leaves  turned 
down  at  the  I4th  chapter  of  St.  John,  with  the 
words : 

"  Commence  here." 

/k   He  read,  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled  :  ye 
believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me." 
V      "  In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions  :  if  it 
were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you.     I  go  to  prepare 
a  place  for  you." 

"  How  sweetly — with  what  exquisite  delicacy  she 
points  me  beyond  the  shadows  of  time,"  he  said  mus 
ingly.  "  I  believe  in  God.  I  ever  have.  Then  why 
not  trust  the  '  Man  of  Sorrows,'  who  also  must  be 
God  ?  Both  Annie  and  her  quaint  old  friend  are 
right.  ^He  never  turned  one  away  who  came  sin 
cerely.  In  Him  who  forgave  the  outcast  and  thief 
there  glimmers  hope  for  me.  How  thick  the  dark 
ness  as  I  look  elsewhere.  Lord  Jesus,"  he  cried, 
with  a  rush  of  tears,  "  I  am  palsied  through  sin^lift 
me  up,  that  I  may  come  to  Thee." 


"LIVE,  LIVE"— ANNIE'S  APPEAL.  487 

Better  for  him  that  night  than  a  glowing  hearth 
with  genial  friends  around  it,  was  Annie's  Bible. 

Looking  at  it  fondly,  he  said,  "  It  links  me  to  her 
happy  childhood  before  that  false  man  came,  and  it 
may  join  me  to  her  in  the  *  place  '  which  God  is  pre 
paring,  when  he  who  now  deceives  her  is  as  far  re 
moved  as  sin." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 
AT  SEA— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER. 

TMMEDIATELY  after  Mr.  Walton's  funeral 
JL  Miss  Eulie  had  written  full  particulars  of  all 
that  had  occurred,  to  a  brother  by  marriage,  then 
in  Europe.  This  gentleman's  name  was  Kemp, 
and  he  had  originally  married  a  sister  of  Miss  Eulie 
and  Mrs.  Walton.  But  this  lady  had  died  some 
years  since,  and  he  married  as  his  second  wife,  one 
who  was  an  entire  stranger  to  the  Walton  family, 
and  with  whom  there  could  be  but  little  sympathy. 
For  this  reason,  though  no  unfriendliness  existed,- 
there  had  been  a  natural  falling-off  of  the  old  cordial 
intimacy.  But  Miss  Eulie  and  Annie  (and  so  had 
Mr.  Walton)  respected  Mr.  Kemp  as  a  man  of 
sterling  worth  and  unimpeachable  integrity,  while 
he  secretly  cherished  a  tender  and  regretful  memory 
of  his  earlier  marriage  connection.  When  he  heard 
that  his  niece,  Annie,  was  orphaned,  his  heart  yearned 
toward"  her,  for  he  had  always  been  fond  of  her  as 
a  child.  But  when  he  came  to  read  of  her  relations 
with  Hunting,  and  that  this  man  was  in  charge  of 
her  property,  he  was  in  deep  distress.  He  would 
have  returned  home  immediately,  but  his  wife's 
health  would  not  permit  his  leaving  her.  But  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  to  Miss  Eulie  a  long  letter  of 


AT  SEA-- A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER. 


489 


honest  sympathy,  urging  her  and  Annie  to  come 
to  him  at  Paris,  saying  that  the  change  would 
foe  of  great  benefit  to  both. 

This  letter  was  expressed  in  such  a  way  that 
she  could  show  it  to  Annie.  But  he  inclosed 
another  under  seal  to  herself,  marked  private,  in 
which  by  strong  and  guarded  language  he  warned 
her  against  Hunting.  He  did  not  dare  commit 
definite  charges  to  writing,  not  knowing  how  much 
influence  Hunting  had  over  his  sister-in-law.  He 
felt  sure  that  Annie  would  not  listen  to  anything 
against  her  lover,  and  justly  feared  that  she  would 
inform  him  of  what  she  heard,  thus  putting  him  on 
his  guard,  and  increasing  his  power  for  mischief. 
His  hope  was  to  act  through  Miss  Eulie,  and  get 
both  her  and  Annie  under  his  protection  as  soon  as 
possible.  He  knew  that  as  soon  as  face  to  face 
with  Annie  he  could  prove  to  her  the  character  of 
her  lover,  and  through  her  compel  him  .to  resign 
his  executorship.  Therefore  he  solemnly  charged 
Miss  Eulie,  as  she  loved  Annie,  not  to  permit  her 
marriage  with  Hunting,  and,  as  executrix,  to  watch 
his  financial  management  closely. 

Miss  Eulie  was  greatly  distressed  by  the  contents 
of  this  letter.  Mr.  Kemp's  words,  combined  with 
Gregory's  manner,  destroyed  her  confidence  in 
Hunting,  and  made  her  feel  that  he  might  cause 
them  irretrievable  disaster.  She  knew  her  brother 
to  be  a  man  of  honor,  and  when  he  wrote  such 
words  as  these,  "  If  Mr.  Walton  knew  Hunting  as 
I  do,  he  would  rather  have  buried  his  daughter  tha% 


4QO  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

permit  her  to  marry  him,"  she  was  sure  that  he  did 
not  speak  unadvisedly. 

"  Moreover,"  Mr.  Kemp  wrote — "  I  am  not  giving 
my  mere  opinion  of  Hunting.  I  have  absolute 
proof  of  what  he  is  and  has  done.'.' 

But  it  was  his  advice  that  it  would  not  be  safe 
to  reveal  to  Annie  the  contents  of  this  letter,  as 
Hunting,  in  the  desperation  of  his  fears,  might  find 
means  to  compass  a  hasty  marriage,  or  disastrously 
use  his  power  over  her  property. 

As  we  have  seen,  in  quiet  home-ministerings, 
Miss  Eulie  had  no  superior,  but  she  felt  peculiarly 
timid  and  self-distrustful  in  dealing  with  matters 
like  these.  Her  first  impulse  and  growing  desire 
was,  that  she  and  Annie  might  reach  the  shelter  and 
protection  of  her  brother.  She  did  not  understand 
business,  and  felt  powerless  to  thwart  Hunting. 

Annie's  spirits  greatly  flagged  after  her  father's 
death.  Hunting  did  not  seem  to  have  the  power 
to  comfort  and  help  her  that  she  expected.  She 
could  not  definitely  find  fault  with  a  single  act,  save 
his  treatment  of  Gregory  ;  he  was  devotion  itself  to 
her,  but  it  was  to  her  alone.  He  proved  no  link 
between  her  and  God.  Even  when  in  careful  phra 
ses  he  sought  to  use.  the  "  language  of  Canaan,"  he 
did  not  speak  it  as  a  native,  and  ever  left  a  vague, 
unsatisfied  pain  in  her  heart.  He  was  true  and 
strong  when  he  spoke  of  his  own  love.  He  was 
eloquent  and  glowing  when  his  fancy  painted  their 
future  home,  but  cold  and  formal  in  comparison, 
*when  he  dwelt  on  that  which  her  Christian  nature 


AT  SEA— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER. 


49* 


most  needed  in  her  deep  affliction.  Too  often  he 
seemed  to  avoid  religious  conversation,  and  when, 
in  her  loving  purpose  to  quicken  and  develop  hi's 
spiritual  life,  she  spoke  of  sacred  themes,  he  showed 
u  lack  of  sympathy  and  appreciation  of  her  thought 
and  feeling  which  caused  a  growing  depression. 

When  Annie  found  that  she  could  leave  the 
children  in  charge  of  a  careful,  trustworthy  relative 
she  was  readily  persuaded  into  the  plan  of  going 
abroad  ;  she  felt  the  need  of  change,  for  her  health 
had  begun  to  fail,  and  she  was  sinking  into  one 
of  those  morbid  states  which  are  partly  physical 
"and  partly  mental. 

Hunting,  also,  strongly  approved  of  the  project. 
Business  would  require  him  to  visit  Europe  during 
the  winter,  and  in  having  Annie  as  a  companion  he 
thought  himself  fortunate  indeed.  He  felt  sure 
that  as  soon  as  she  regained  her  health  and  spirits 
she  would  consent  to  their  marriage  ;  moreover,  it 
woul'd  place  the  sea  between  her  and  Gregory  and 
all  dangers  of  disclosure.  A  trip  abroad  promised 
to  further  his  interests  in  all  respects.  He  knew 
nothing  of  Mr.  Kemp  save  as  a  New  York  business 
man,  and  supposed  that  Mr.  Kemp  had  only  a  gene 
ral  and  favorable  knowledge  of  himself. 

For  Annie's  sake  and  her  own  Miss  Eulie  tried 
to  prevent  any  marked  change  in  her  manner  to 
ward  Hunting,  and  though  she  was  not  a  very  good 
actress,  he  did  not  care  enough  about  her  to  no 
tice  her  occasional  restraints  and  formality  of  man 
ner.  But  Annie  did,  and  it  was  another  source  of 


492  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

vague  uneasiness  and  pain,  though  the  causes  were 
too  intangible  to  speak  of.  She  thought  it  possi 
ble  that  Gregory  might  have  prejudiced  her  aunt 
slightly.  But  it  was  her  nature  to  prove  all  the 
more  loyal  to  Hunting,  especially  when  he  was  so 
devoted  to  her. 

Before  they  could  complete  arrangements  for  de 
parture,  Annie  was  taken  seriously  ill,  and  January 
of  the  ensuing  year  had  nearly  passed  before  she 
was  strong  enough  for  the  journey.  During  her  ill 
ness  no  one  could  have  been  more  kind  and  atten 
tive  than  Hunting,  and  Annie  felt  exceedingly 
grateful.  But  in  their  prolonged  and  close  inti 
macy  since  her  father's  death,  something  in  the 
man  himself  had  caused  her  love  for  him  to  wane. 
She  had  a  growing  consciousness  that  he  was  not 
what  she  supposed.  She  reproached  herself  bitterly 
for  this,  and  under  the  sense  of  the  wrong  she  felt 
herself  doing  him,  was  disposed  to  show  more  def 
erence  to  his  wishes,  and  in  justice  to  him  to  try  to 
make  amends.  When,  therefore,  he  again  urged 
that  the  marriage  take  place  before  they  sailed,  giv 
ing  as  his  reason,  that  he  could  take  better  care  of 
her  and  that  henceforth  she  could  be  with  him, 
and  that  he  would  not  be  compelled  to  leave  her 
so  often  on  account  of  his  business,  she  was  half  in 
clined  to  yield.  She  felt  that  the  marriage-tie 
would  confirm  her  true  feelings  as  a  wife,  and  that  it 
was  hardly  fair  to  ask  him  to  be  away  from  his 
large  and  exacting  business  so  much,  especially 
when  he  had  seemingly  been  so  generous  in  the 


AT  SEA— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER. 


493 


time  he  had  given  her,  when  it  must  have  involved 
to  him  serious  loss  and  inconvenience.  She  said  to 
herself 

"  I  shall  be  better  and  happier,  and  so  will 
Charles,  when  I  cease  secretly  finding  fault  with  him, 
and  devote  myself  unselfishly  to  making  a  good 
wife  and  a  good  home.'* 

Hunting  exultantly  thought  that  he  would  carry 
his  point,  but  Miss  Eulie  proved  she  was  not  that 
nonentity  which,  in  his  polite  and  attentive  indiffer 
ence,  he  had  secretly  regarded  her.  With  quiet 
firmness  she  said  that,  as  Annie's  natural  guardian, 
she  Would  not  give  her  consent  to  the  marriage. 
As  a  reason  she  gave — 

"  I  think  it  would  show  a  great  lack  of  respect  and 
courtesy  to  your  uncle  and  my  brother,  who  is  so 
fond  of  you,  and -has  been  so  kind.  I  see  no  press 
ing  need  for  the  marriage  now,  for  I  am  going  with 
Annie  and  can  take  care  of  her,  as  I  have.  If  it 
seems  best,  yo*u  can  be  married  over  there,  and  I 
know  that  Mr.  Kemp  would  feel  greatly  hurt  if  we 
acted  as  if  we  were  indifferent  to  his  presence  at 
the  ceremony." 

The  moment  her  aunt  expressed  this  view 
Annie  agreed  with  her,  and  Hunting  felt  that  he 
could  not  greatly  complain,  as  tke  marriage  would 
be  delayed  but  a  few  weeks.  ^ 

Annie  felt  absolved  from  her  promise  to  Greg 
ory,  by  an  event  that  occurred  not  very  long  after 
his  departure.  Gregory  had  sent  a  box  directed  to 
Miss  Eulie's  care,  containing  some  toys  and  books 


494 


OPENING  A  CHESNUT  BURR. 


for  the  children,  and  the  promised  tobacco  for 
Daddy  Tuggar,  also  a  note  inclosed  in  one  to  Miss 
Eulie  for  Annie,  in  which  were  these  words  only : 

"  If  you  had  searched  the  world  you  could  not 
have  given  me  anything  that  I  would  value  more." 

In  his  self-distrust,  and  in  his  purpose  not  to  give 
the  slightest  ground  for  the  imputation  that  he  had 
sought  her  promise  of  delay  to  obtain  time  to  gain 
a  hearing  himself,  he  had  said  no  more. 

But  Annie  thought  that  he  might  have  said 
more.  The  note  seemed  cold  and  brief  in  view  of 
all  that  had  passed  between  them.  Still,  she  hoped 
much  from  the  influence  of  her  Bible. 

But  one  evening  Hunting  came  up  from  the  city 
evidently  much  disturbed.  To  her  natural  solici 
tude  he  said  : 

"  I  don't  like  to  speak  of  it,  for  you  seem  to  think 
that  I  ought  to  stand  everything  from  Mr.  Gregory. 
And  so  I  suppose  I  ought,  and  indeed  I  was  grateful, 
but  one  can't  help  having  the  natural  feelings  of  a 
man.  I  was  with  some  friends  and  met  him  face  to 
face  in  an  omnibus.  Knowing  how  great  was  your 
wish  that  we  should  be  friendly,  I  spoke  courteously 
to  him,  but  he  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  dog. 
He  might  as  well  have  struck  me.  I  saw  that  my 
friends  were  greatly  surprised,  but  of  course  I  could 
not  explain  there,  and  yet  it's  not  pleasant  to  be 
treated  like  a  pickpocket,  with  no  redress.  I  defy 
him,"  continued  Hunting,  assuming  the  tone  and 
manner  of  one  greatly  wronged,  "  to  prove  anything 
worse  against  me  than  that  I  compelled  him  and  his 


AT  SEA— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER.        495 

partners  to  pay  money  to  which  I  had  a  legal  right, 
and  which  I  could  have  collected  in  a  court  of  law." 

The  politic  Hunting  said  nothing  of  moral  right, 
'  and  innocent  Annie  was  not  on  the  look-out  for 
such  quibbles. 

Her  quick  feelings  were  strongly  stirred,  and  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment  she  sat  down  and  wrote: 

"  MR.  GREGORY: — I  think  your  course  toward 
Mr.  Hunting  to-day,  was  not  only  unjust,  but  even 
ungentlemanly.  You  cannot  hurt  his  feelings  with 
out  wounding  mine.  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  your 
hostility  is  both  'unreasonable  and  implacable/  In 
sadness  and  disappointment, 

"ANNIE  WALTON."    ' 

"There,"  she  said,  "read  that,  and  please  mail 
it  for  me." 

''That's  my  noble  Annie,"  he  said  gratefully, 
"  now  you  prove  your  love  anew,  and  show  you  will 
not  stand  quietly  by  and  see  me  insulted.'' 

"You  may  rest  assured  I  will  not,"  she  said 
promptly;  adding  very  sadly  after  a  moment,  "I 
cannot  understand  how .  Mr.  Gregory,  with  all  his 
good  qualities,  can  act  so." 

"  You  do  not  k*ow  him  as  well  as  I  do,"  said 
Hunting,  "and  yet  even  I  feel  grateful  to  him  for 
his  services  to  you,  and  would  show  it  if  he  would 
treat"  me  decently." 

"  He  shall  treat  you  decently  and  politely  too, 
if  he  wishes  to  keep  my  favor,"  said  she  hotly. 


496  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

But  the  next  day,  when  she  thought  it  all  over 
quietly,  she  regretted  that  she  had  written  so  harshly. 
"My  words  will  not  help  my  Bible's  influence,"  she 
thought  in  self-reproach,  "and  only  when  he  becomes 
a  Christian  will  he  sjiow  a  different  disposition." 

Her  regret  would  have  been  still  deeper,  if  she 
had  known  that  Hunting  had  sent  her  note  with 
one  from  himself  to  this  effect : 

"You  perceive  from  the  inclosed  that  you  cannot 
insult  me  as  you  did  yesterday,  and  still  retain  the 
favor  of  one  whose  esteem  you  value  too  highly  per 
haps.  My  only  regret  is  that  you  were  not  a  wit 
ness  to  the  words  and  manner  which  accompanied 
the  act  of  writing." 

Still  stronger  would  have  been  her  indigna 
tion  had  she  known  that  Hunting  had  greatly  ex 
aggerated  his  insult.  Gregory  had  merely  acted  as 
if  unconscious  of  his  presence,  and  there  had  been 
no  look  of  scorn. 

When  Gregory  received  the  missives  he  toss 
ed  Hunting's  contemptuously  into  the  fire,  but 
read  Annie's  more  than  once,  sighed  deeply  and 
said  : 

"  He  keeps  his  ascendancy  over  her.  O  God, 
quench  not  my  spark  of  faith  by  permitting  this 
great  wrong  to  be  consummated."  Then  he  en 
dorsed  on  her  note,  "  Forgiven,  my  dear,  deceived 
sister.  You  will  understand  in  God's  good  time." 

But  he  felt  that  God  must  unravel  the  projplem, 
for  Annie  would  listen  to  nothing  against  her 
lover. 


A  T  SEA  -  -A  M  YS  TERIO  US  PA  SSENGER.        497 

Annie  hoped  that  Gregory  wourfd  write  an  ex 
planation,  or  at  least  some  words  in  self-defence, 
and  then  she  meant  to  soften  her  hasty  note,  but  no 
answer  came.  This  increased  her  depression,  for 
she  was  surprised  at  her  strong  and  abiding  interest 
in  him.  She  could  not  understand  how  their  event 
ful  acquaintance  should  end  as  it  promised  to. 
Then  came  her  illness,  and,  through  many  long, 
sleepless  hours,  she  thought  of  the  painful  mys 
tery.  , 

But  as  she  recovered  strength  of  body  and  mind 
she  felt  that  it  was  one  of  those  things  that  she 
must  trustingly  put  in  God's  hands  and  leave  there. 
This  she  did,  and  resolutely  and  patiently  address 
ed  herself  to  the  duties  and  obligations  of  her  lot. 

As  for  Gregory,  from  the  first  evening  of  his 
return  to  the  city,  he  adopted  the  resolution  in 
regard  to  Annie's  Bible,  which  she,  as  a  little  child, 
had  written  in  it  so  many  years  ago : 

"  I  will  read  it  every  day." 

It  became  his  shrine  and  constant  solace.  In 
stead  of  going  to  his  club,  as  was  his  former  cus 
tom,  he  spent  the  long,  quiet  evenings  in  its  study. 
The  more  he  read  the  more  fascinated  he  became 
with  its  rich  and  varied  truths.  Sometimes,  as  he 
was  tracing  up  a  line  of  thought  through  its  pages, 
so  luminously  and  beautifully  would  it  develop  that 
it  seemed  to  him  that  Annie  and  his  mother,  with 
unseen  hands,  were  pointing  the  way.  Though 
almost  alone  in  the  great  city,  he  grew  less  and  less 
lonely,  and  welcomed  the  shades  of  evening,  that  he 


498 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


might  return  to  a  place  now  sacred  to  him,  where 
the  gift-Bible,  like  a  living  presence,  awaited  him. 

His  doubts  and  fears  vanished  slowly.  His 
faith  kindled  even  more  slowly ;  but  the  teachings 
of  that  inspired  Book  gave  him  principle,  true  man 
hood,  and  strength  to  do  right,  no  matter  how  he 
felt.  He  had  honestly  and  sturdily  resolved  to  be 
guided  by  it,  and  it  did  guide  him.  He  was  a 
Christian,  though  he  did  not  know  it,  and  would 
not  presume  to  call  himself  such  even  to  him 
self.  In  view  of  his  evil  past  he  was  exceedingly 
humble  and  self-distrustful.  As  Mr.  Walton  had 
told  poor  old  Daddy  Tuggar,  he  was  simply  trying 
to  "  trust  Jesus  Christ  and  do  the  best  he  could," 

But  those  associated  with  him  in  business,  and 
many  others,  wondered  at  his»  change.  Old  Mr. 
Burnett,  his  senior  partner,  was  specially  delighted, 
and  would  often  say  to  him : 

"  I  thank  God,  Mr.  Gregory,  that  you  nearly 
had  your  neck  broke  last  October;"  for  the  good 
old  man  associated  this  accident  with  the  change. 

Gregory  also  commenced  attending  church — not 
a  gorgeous  temple  on  Fifth  avenue,  where  he  was 
not  needed,  but  he  hunted  up  an  obscure  and 
struggling  mission,  and  said  to  the  minister : 

"I  am  little  better  than  a  heathen,  but  if  you 
will  trust  me  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  to  help  you." 

Within  a  month,  through  his  liberal  gifts  and 
energetic  labors  the  usefulness  of  the  mission  was 
almost  doubled.  It  was  touching  to  see  him  hum 
bly  and  patiently  doing  the  Lord's  lowliest  work, 


A  T  SEA— A  M  YSTERIO  US  PA  SSENGER.         499 

as  if  he  were  not  worthy.  He  hoped  that  in  time 
he  might  receive  the  glad  assurance  that  he  was  ac 
cepted  ;  but  whether  it  came  or  not,  purposed  to 
do  the  best  he  could  and  leave  his  fate  in  God's 
hands.  At  any  rate  God  seemed  not  against  him, 
for  both  his  business  and  Christian  work  prospered. 

One  bright  morning  the  last  of  January*  Annie, 
Miss  Eulie,  and  Hunting  were  driven  down  to  the 
steamer,  and  having  gone  to  their  state-rooms 
and  seen  that  their  luggage  was  properly  stowed 
away,  they  came  up  on  deck  to  watch  the  scenes 
attending  the  departure  of  the  great  ship,  and 
observe  the  views  as  they  sailed  down  the  bay. 
Hunting  had  told  them  to  make  the  most  of  this 
part  of  the  voyage,  for  in  a  winter  passage  it  might 
be  long  before  they  could  enjoy  another  promenade. 

Annie  was  intensely  interested,  for  all  was  new 
and  strange.  She  had  a  keen,  quick  eye  for  char 
acter,  and  a  human  interest  in  humanity,  even 
though  those  around  her  did  not  belong  to  her 
"  set."  Therefore,  it  was  with  appreciative  eyes 
she  watched  the  motley  groups  of  her  fellow-pas 
sengers  waving  handkerchiefs  and  exchanging  fare 
wells  with  equally  diversified  groups  on  the  wharf. 

"  It  seems,"  she  said  to  her  aunt,  "  as  if  all  the 
world  had  sent  their  representatives  here.  It 
makes  me  almost  sad  that  there  is  no  one  to  see 
us  off." 

Then  her  eye  rested  upon  a  gentleman  who  evi 
dently  had  no  one  to  see  him  off.  He  was  leaning 
on  the  railing  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  ship, 


500  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

smoking  a  cigar.  -His  back  was  toward  all  this 
bustle  and  confusion,  and  he  seemed  to  have 
an  air  of  isolation  and  indifference  to  what  was 
going  on  about  him.  His  tall  person  was  encased 
in  a  heavy  dark-blue  overcoat,  with  a  deep  cape, 
which  seemed  to  combine  comfort  with  elegance,  and 
gave  to^him,  even  in  his  leaning  posture,  a  distingue 
air.  But  that  which  drew  Annie's  attention  was  a 
manner  so  different  from  all  others,  who  were  either 
interested  or  excited  by  surroundings,  or  were  turn 
ing  wistfully  and  eagerly  toward  friends,  whom  it 
might  be  long  .before  they  saw  again.  The  motion 
less,  apathetic  figure,  smoking  quietly,  with  his  felt 
hat  drawn  down  over  his  eyes,  and  looking  away 
from  everything  and  everybody,  came  to  have  a  fas 
cination  for  her. 

The  steamer  slowly  and  majestically  moved  out 
into  the  stream.  Shouts,  cries,  final  words,  hoarse 
orders  from  the  officers — a  perfect  babel  of  sounds 
filled  the  air,  but  the  silently-curling  smoke- 
wreaths  were  the  only  suggestion  of  life  from  that 
strangely  indifferent  form.  He  seemed  like  one  so 
deeply  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  that  he  would 
have  to  be  awakened  as  from  sleep. 

But  suddenly  he  turned  and  came  toward  them 
with  the  air  of  one  who  feels  himself  alone,  though 
jostled  in  a  crowd,  and  instantly,  with  a  strange 
thrill  at  heart,  Annie  recognized  Walter  Gregory. 

Hunting  saw  him  also,  and  Annie  noted  that 
while  the  blackest  frown  gathered  on  his  brow,  he 
grew  very  pale. 


A  T  SEA— A  M  YSTERIO  US  PA  SSENGER.        5 Q  i 

In  his  absorption  he  would  have  passed  by  them, 
but  Annie  said : 

"  Mr.  Gregory,  are  you  not  going  to  speak  to  us?" 

He  started  violently,  and  every  visible  part  of 
his  face  and  neck  mantled  with  hot  blood,  and 
Annie  also  felt  t*hat  she  was  blushing  unaccount 
ably.  But  he  recovered  instantly,  and  came  and 
shook  her  hand  most  cordially,  saying  : 

"  This  is  a  strangely  unexpected  pleasure.  And 
Miss  Morton,  also  !  When  was  I  ever  so  fortunate 
before  ?  " 

Then  he  saw  Hunting,  to  whom  he  bowed  with 
his  old,  distant  manner,  and  Hunting  returned  the 
acknowledgment  in  the  most  stiff  and  formal  man 
ner. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Annie,  "  I  have  been 
watching  you  with  curiosity  for  some  time  past, 
though  I  did  not  know  who  you  were  till  you 
turned.  I  could  not  account  for  your  apathy  and 
indifference  to  this  scene,  which,  to  me,  is  so  novel 
and  exciting,  and  which  seems  to  find  everyone  in 
terested  save  yourself.  I  should  hardly  have 
thought  you  alive  if  you  had  not  been  smoking." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  abroad  so  often 
that  it  has  become  like  crossing  the  ferry,  and  I  was 
expecting  no  one  down  to  see  me  off.  But  you  do 
not  look  well ; "  and  both  she  and  Miss  Eulie  no 
ticed  that  he  glanced  uneasily  from  her  to  Hunting, 
and  did  not  seem  sure  how  he  should  address  her. 

"  Miss  Walton  has  just  recovered  from  a  long  ill 
ness,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  quietly. 


502  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

His  face  instantly  brightened,  and  as  quickly 
changed  to  an  expression  of  sincerest  sympathy. 

"  Not  seriously  ill,  I  hope,"  he  said,  earnestly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  was,"  replied  Annie,  adding,  cheer 
fully,  "  I  am  quite  well  now,  though." 

His  face  became  as  pale  as  it  was  flushed  a  mo 
ment  before,  and  he  said,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  I  did  not  know  it." 

His  manner  touched  her,  and  proved  that  there 
was  no  apathy  and  indifference  on  his  part  toward 
her,  though  there  might  be  to  the  bustling  world 
around  him. 

Then  he  inquired  particularly  after  each  member 
of  the  household,  especially  old  Daddy  Tuggar. 

Annie  told  him  how  delighted  the  children  had 
been  with  the  toys  and  books,  "  and  as  for  Daddy 
Tuggar,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  he  has  been  in  the 
clouds,  literally  and  metaphorically,  ever  since  you 
sent  him  the  tobacco.  Whenever  I  go  to  see  him 
he  says,  most  cheerily,  Alt's  all  settled,  Miss  Annie. 
It  grows  clearer  with  every  pipe  '  (while  I  can 
scarcely  see  him),  I'm  all  right,  'cause  I'm  a  dreadful 
sinner.'  " 

She  was  rather  surprised  at  the  look  of  glad  sym 
pathy  which  he  gave  her,  but  he  only  said, 

"  He  is  to  be  envied." 

Then  at  her  request  he  commenced  pointing  out 
the  objects  of  interest  they  were  passing,  and  with 
quiet  courtesy  drew  Hunting  into  the  conversation, 
who  rather  ungraciously  permitted  it  because  he 
could  not  help  himself. 


AT  SEA— A  MYSTERIOUS  PASSENGER.  •      503 

Annie  again,  with  pain,  saw  the  unfavorable  con 
trast  of  her  lover  with  this  man,  who  certainly 
proved  himself  the  most  finished  of  gentlemen,  if 
nothing  else. 

But  with  almost  a  child's  delight  she  said,  "  You 
have  no  idea  how  novel  and  interesting  all  this  is 
to  me,  though  so  old  and  matter  of  fact  to  you.  I 
have  always  wanted  to  cross  the  ocean,  and  look 
forward  to  this  voyage  with  unmingled  pleasure." 

"  I'm  sincerely  sorry  such  a  disastrous  change  is 
so  soon  to  take  place  in  your  sensations,  for  it  will 
be  rough  outside  to-day,  and  I  fear  you  and  Miss 
Morton  will  soon  be  suffering  from  the  most  forlorn 
and  prosaic  of  maladies." 

"I  won't  give  up  to  it,"  said  Annie  resolutely. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  he  replied  humorously,  "  as 
our  quaint  old  friend  used  to  say,  that  you  are  '  well- 
meaning*  but  we  must  all  submit  to  fate.  I  fear  you 
will  soon  be  confined  to  the  dismal  lower  regions." 

"  Are  you  sick  ?  " 

"  I  was  at  first." 

His  prediction  was  soon  verified.  From  almost 
a  feeling  of  rapture  and  a  sense  of  the  sublime  as 
they  looked  out  upon  the  broad  Atlantic  with  its 
tumultuous  waves,  the  ladies  suddenly  became  si 
lent,  and  glanced  nervously  toward  the  stairway  that 
led  to  the  cabin. 

Gregory  promptly  gave  his  arm  to  Miss  Eulie 
while  Hunting  followed  with  Annie,  and  that  was 
the  last  appearance  of  the  ladies  for  the  three  fol 
lowing  days. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
COLLISION  AT  SEA — WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  as  the  sea 
had  become  more  calm,  the  ladies  ventured 
upon  deck  for  a  short  time.     Gregory  immediately 
joined  them    and  complimented   their  courage  in 
coming  out  during  a  winter  voyage. 

X"  Nature  and  I  are  friends  all  the  year  'round," 
said  Annie,  with  a  faint  attempt  at  a  smile,  for  she 
was  still  sick  and  faint.  "  I  rather  like  her  wild, 
rough  moods.  It  has  been  a  great  trial  to  my  pa 
tience  to  lie  in  my  berth,  helpless,  and  miserable 
from  what  you  well  term  a  '  prosaic  malady/  when 
I  was  longing  to  see  the  ocean.  Now  tj^at  we  have 
made  a  desperate  attempt  to  reach  deck,  there  is 
nothing  to  see.  Do  you  think  this  dense  fog  will 
last  long?" 

"  I  hope  not,  especially  for  your  sake.  But  do 
not  regret  coming  out,  for  you  will  soon  feel  better 
for  it." 

"I  do  already;  I  believe  I  could  live  out  of 
doors.  Have  you  been  sick?" 

"  Oh  no  ,  I  should  have  been  a  sailor." 

11  Mr.  Hunting  has  fared  almost  as  badly  as  we," 
said  Annie,  determined  that  they  should  make  one 
group. 


WHAT  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  505 

"  Indeed  !  I'm  sorry,"  said  Gregory,  quietly. 

"  I  hate  the  ocean,5'  snarled  Hunting,  with  a  grim, 
white  face,  "  I'm  always  sick." 

"  And  I'm  afraid  of  it,"  said  Miss  Eulie.  "  How 
can  they  find  their  way  through  such  a  mist  ?  Then, 
we  might  run  into  something." 

"  In  any  case  you  are  safe,  Miss  Morton,5'  said 
Gregory,  with  a  smile. 

She  gave  him  a  bright  look  and  replied,  "  I  trust 
we  all  are.  But  the  sea  is  rough,  boisterous, 
treacherous,  and  mysterious — just  the  qualities  I 
don't  like.  What  a  perfect  emblem  of  mystery 
this  fog  is  through  which,  we  are  going  so  rapidly  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Gregory,  with  one  of  his  expressive 
shrugs,  "  I  find  all  these  experiences  equally  on  the 
land,  especially  the  latter." 

Annie  gave  him  a  quick,  inquiring  look,  while 
color  came  into-even  Hunting's  pale  face. 

Annie  felt  no  little  curiosity  as  to  Gregory's 
state  of  mind,  for  though  he  had  said  nothing  de 
finite,  there  was  a  softened  manner  and  quiet  dig 
nity  which  made  him  seem  very  unlike  his  old  self. 

"  How  do  you  pass  your  time  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  read  a  great  deal,  and  I  take  consider 
able  exercise,  for  I  wish  to  fully  regain  my  health." 

She  gave  him  a  quick,  grateful  look.  He  was 
keeping  his  promise.  She  said, 

"  You  look  very  much  better  than  I  expected  to 
see   you,  and  I'm  very  glad,  for  you   were  almost 
ghostly  when  you   left   us.     What  do  you  find  to 
read  so  interesting?  " 
22 


506  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR 

His  color  rase  instantly,  but  he  said  with  a  smile, 
"  A  good  old  book  that  I  brought  with  me." 

The  expression  of  his  face  answered  her  swift, 
questioning  look.  It  was  her  Bible.  Neither  Miss 
Eulie  nor  Hunting  understood  why  she  became  so 
quiet ;  but  the  latter,  who  was  watching  them  closely, 
thought  he  detected  some  secret  understanding. 
In  his  jealous  egotism  it  could  only  mean  what  was 
adverse  to  himself,  and  he  had  an  attack  of  some 
thing  worse  than  sea-sickness. 

Gregory  quietly  turned  the  conversation  upon 
ocean  travel,  and  for  a  half  hour  entertained  the 
ladies  without  any  effort  on  their  part,  and  then  they 
went  back  to  their  state-rooms. 

By  evening  the  ship  was  running  so  steadily  that 
they  all  came  out  to  supper.  Gregory,  who  was  a 
personal  friend  of  the  Captain's,  had  secured  them  a 
place  near  the  head  of  the  table  where  they  received 
the  best  of  attention.  Annie,  evidently,  was  recover 
ing  rapidly,  and  took  a  genuine  interest  in  the  novel 
life  and  scenes  around  her.  She  fourid  herself  vis-a 
vis  and  side  by  side  with  great  diversities  of  char 
acter,  and  listened  with  an  amused,  intelligent  face, 
to  the  brisk  conversation.  She  noted  with  surprise 
that  Gregory  seemed  quite  a  favorite,  but  soon  saw 
the  reason  in  his  effort  to  make  the  hour  pass  pleas 
antly  to  his  fellow-passengers.  The  Captain  had 
given  hinrra  seat  at  his  right  hand,  and  appealed  to 
him  on  every  disputed  point  that  was  outside  of  his 
special  province. 

She  was  also  pleased  to  see  how  Gregory  toned 


WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN'  COULD  DO.  507 

up  the  table-talk  and  skillfully  led  it  away  from  dis 
agreeable  topics.  But  he  had  a  rather  difficult  task, 
for,  sitting  quite  near  to  her,  was  a  man  whose  loud 
and  ostentatious  dress  reflected  his  character  and 
words. 

Some  one  was  relating  an  anecdote  of  narrow 
escape,  and  another  remarked, 

"  That's  what  I  should  call  a  special  Providence." 

"  Special  Providence !  "  said  Annie's  loud  neigh 
bor,  contemptuously.  "  A  grown  man  is  very  weak- 
minded  to  believe  in  any  Providence  whatever." 

•  There  was  a  shocked,  pained  expression,  on  many 
faces,  and  Annie's  eyes  blazed  with  indignation. 
She  turned  to  Hunting,  expecting  him  to  resent 
such  an  insult  to  their  faith,  but  saw  only  a  cold 
sneer  on  his  face.  Hunting  was  decidedly  English 
in  his  style,  and  would  travel  around  the  world  and 
never  speak  to  a  stranger,  or  make  an  acquaintance, 
if  he  could  help  it.  Then,  instinctively,  she  turned 
to  Gregory.  He  was  looking  fixedly  at  the  man, 
and  his  manner  had  attracted  general  attention. 
But  he  only  said,  quietly, 

"  Then  I  am  very  weak-minded." 

There  was  a  general  expression  of  pleased  sur 
prise,  and  sympathy  on  the  faces  of  those  who  un 
derstood  his  reply,  while  the  Captain  stared  at  him 
in  some  astonishment. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "  I 
meant  nothing  personal.  It  was  only  a  rather  blunt 
way  of  saying  that  I  didn't  believe  in  any  such 
things  myself." 


508  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  give  you  credit  for  your  honesty,  but  some 
of  us  do." 

"  Then  you  pretend  to  be  a  Christian?  " 

"  I  should  not  pretend  to  be  one  under  any  cir 
cumstances,''  said  Gregory,  with  the  perfection  ot 
quiet  dignity,  "  and  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  that  I  am 
not  so  favored.  But  I  have  full  belief  In  both  a 
special  and  general  Providence." 

"  I  like  your  honesty,  too,"  said  the  man,  seem 
ingly  anxious  for  an  argument.  "  By  the  word 
'  pretend  '  I  only  meant  claim,  or  assert.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  facts  in  the  case  are  all 
against  your  belief.  I  find  nothing  but  law  in  the 
universe.  You  might  as  well  say  that  this  ship  is 
run  by  special  Providence,  when,  in  fact,  it  is  run 
by  accurately  gauged  machinery,  system  and 
rules." 

"  Now,  your  argument  is  lame,7'  said  the  Cap 
tain,  laughing.  "  We  have  plenty  of  good  ma 
chinery,  system  and  rules  aboard,  but  if  I  wasn't 
around,  looking  after  everything  all  the  time,  as  a 
special  providence,  I'm  afraid  you'd  find  salt  water 
before  Liverpqol." 

A  general  laugh  followed  this  sally,  and  Gregory 
said,  "And  so  I  believe  that  the  Divine  Providence 
superintends  his  own  laws  and  system.  I  think  my 
friend,  the  Captain,  has  given  a  most  happy  illus 
tration  of  the  truth,  and  I  had  no  idea  he  was  so 
good  a  theologian." 

"  That's  not  an  argument,"  said  the  man,  con 
siderably  crest-fallen.  "  That's  only  a  joke." 


WHAT  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  509 

'*  By  the  way,  Mr.  Gregory,  it  seems  to  me  that 
your  views  have  changed  since  you  crossed  with 
me  last,"  remarked  the  Captain. 

"  I  frankly  admit  they  have,"  was  the  prompt 
reply.  "  Perhaps  I  cari  explain  myself  by  the  fol 
lowing  question  :  If  you  find,  by  a  careful  observa 
tion,  that  you  are  heading  your  ship  the  wrong 
way,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  Put  her  about  on  the  right  course." 

"That  is  just  what  I  have  tried  to  do,  sir.  I 
think  my  meaning  is  plain  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  be  clearer,  and  I'd  rather  be 
aboard  now  than  when  you  were  on  the  old  tack." 

Annie  gave  Gregory  a  glance  of  glad,  grateful 
approval  that  warmed  his  heart  like  sunshine. 

Hunting  said,  enviously,  sotto  voce,  "  I  think  such 
conversation  at  a  public  table  wretched  taste." 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you,"  said  Annie,  decided 
ly,  "but  granting  it,  Mr..  Gregory  did  not  introduce 
'the  subject,  and  I  wish  you  had  spoken  as  he  did 
when  every  Christian  at  the  table  was  insulted." 

He  colored  deeply,  but,  judiciously,  said  nothing. 

But  with  increasing  pain  she  thought,  "  He  who 
says  he  is  not  a  Christian,  acts  more  like  one  than 
he  who  claims  the  character." 

But  she  now  had  the  strongest  hopes  for 
Gregory,  and  longed  for  a  private  talk  with  him. 

The  next  day  it  blew  quite  a  gale,  and  Hunting 
and  Miss  Eulie  were  helplessly  confined  to  their 
state-rooms.  But  Annie  had  become  a  sailor,  and 
having  done  all  she  could  for  her  aunt,  came  upon 


5io 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


deck,  where  she  saw  Gregory  walking  back  and 
forth  with  almost  the  steadiness  of  one  of  the  ship's 
officers. 

She  tried  to  go  to  him,  but  would  have  fallen  had 
he  not  seen  her  and  reached  her  side  almost  at  a 
bound.  With  a  gentleness  and  tenderness  that  was 
as  real  as  delicate,  he  placed  her  in  a  sheltered 
nook  where  she  could  see  the  waves  in  their  mad 
sport,  and  said, 

"  Now  you  can  see  old  ocean  in  one  of  his  best 
moods.  The  wind,  though  strong,  is  right  abaft, 
filling  all  the  sails  they  dare  carry,  and  we  are  mak 
ing  grand  progress." 

"  How  wonderful  it  is ! ''  cried  Annie,  looking 
with  a  child's  interest  upon  the  scene.  "  Just  see 
those  briny  mountains,  with  foam  and  spray 
for  foliage.  If  our  home  Highlands  with  their 
mingled  evergreens  and  snow  were  changed  from 
granite  to  water,  and  set  in  this  wild  motion,  it  could 
hardly  seem  more  strange  and  sublime.  Look  at 
that  great  monster  coming  so  threateningly  toward 
us.  It  seems  as  if  we  would  be  ingulfed  beyond  a 
chance." 

"  Now,  see  how  gracefully  the  ship  will  surmount 
it,"  said  Gregory,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  she,  sighing,  "  if  we  could  only 
rise  above  our  troubles  in  the  same  way!"  Then, 
feeling  that  she  had  touched  on  delicate  ground,  she 
hastened  to  add,  "  This  boundless  waste  increases 
my  old  childish  wonder,  how  people  ever  find  their 
way  across  the  ocean." 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  CO  ULD  DO.  5  \  i 

"  The  captain  is  even  now  illustrating  your  own 
teaching  and  practice  in  regard  to  the  longer  an'd. 
more  difficult  voyage  of  life,"  said  Gregory,  mean 
ingly.  "  He  is  '  looking  up,' — taking  an  observation 
of  the  heavens,  and  will  soon  know  just  where  we 
are  and  how  to  steer." 

Annie  looked  at  him  wistfully,  and  said  in  a  low 
tone,  "  I  was  so  glad  to  learn,  last  evening,  that  you 
had  taken  an  observation  also,  and  I  was  so  very 
grateful,  too,  that  you  had  the  courage  to  defend 
our  faith." 

"  I  have  to  thank  you  that  I  could  do  either. 
It  was  really  you  who  spoke." 

"  No,  Mr.  Gregory,"  she  said  gently,  "  my  work 
for  you  reached  its  limk.  God  is  leading  you  now." 

"  I  try  to  hope  so,"  he  said  ;  <4  but  it  was  your 
hand  that  placed  in  mine  that  by  which  He  is  lead 
ing  me.  He  surely  must  have  put  it  into  your 
heart  to  give  me  that  Bible.  When  I  reached  my 
cheerless  rooms  in  New  .York  I  felt  so  lonely  and 
low-spirited  that  I  had  not  the  courage  to  go 
a  single  step  further.  But  your  Bible  became 
a  living,  comforting  presence  from  that  night.  What 
exquisite  tact  you  showed  in  giving  me  that  little 
worn  companion  of  your  childhood,  instead  of  a  * 
new  gilt-leaved  one,  with  no  associations.  I  first 
hoped  that  you  might  with  it  give  me  also  some 
thing  of  your  childhood's  faith.  But  that  does  not 
come  yet.  That  does  not  come." 

"  It  will,"  said  she,  earnestly,  and  with  moistened 
eyes. 


512 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


".That,  now,  is  one  of  my  dearest  hopes.  But 
after  what  I  have  been,  I  am  not  worthy  that  it 
should  come  soon.  But  if  I  perish  myself  I  want  to 
try  to  help  others." 

Then  he  asked,  in  honest  distrustfulness ;  "  Do 
you  think  it  right  for  one  who  is  not  a  Christian  to 
try  to  teach  others  ?  " 

"  Before  I  answer  that  question  I  wish  to  ask  a 
little  more  about  your  life  and  feelings ; "  and  she 
skillfully  drew  him  out,  he  speaking  more  openly  in 
view  of  the  question  to  be  decided,  than  he  would 
otherwise  have  done.  He  told  of  the  long  even 
ings  spent  over  her  Bible,  instead  of  at  the  club  ;  of 
his  mission  work,  and  of  his  honest  effort  to  deal 
justly  with  all ;  at  the  same  time  dwelling  strongly 
on  his  doubts  and  spiritual  darkness,  and  the  un 
spent  influences  of  his  old  evil  life. 

The   answer  was    different   from  what   he   ex 
pected ;  for  she  said:  "  Mr.  Gregory,  why  do  you 
say  that  you  are  not  a  Christian  ?  " 
"  Because  I  feel  that  I  am  not." 

"  Does  feeling  merely  make  a  Christian?"  she 
asked.  "Is  not  action  more  than  feeling?  Does 
not  trusting,  following,  serving,  and  seeking  to  obey, 
make  a  Christian  ?  But  suppose  that  even  with  your 
present  feeling  you  were  living  at  the  time  of 
Christ's  visible  presence  on  earth,  would  you  be  hos 
tile  or  indifferent,  or  would  you  join  his  band  even 
though  small  and  despised^?  " 

"  I  think  I  would  do  the  latter,  if  permitted." 

"  I  know  you  would,  from  your  course  last  night. 


WHA  T  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO. 


513 


And  do  you  think  Jesus  would  say,  '  Because  you* 
are  not  an  emotional  man  like  Peter,  you  are  no 
friend  of  mine  ?  '  Why,  Mr.  Gregory,  He  let  even 
Judas  Iscariot,  though  with  unworthy  motive,  fol 
low  Him  as  long  as  he  would,  giving  him  a  chance 
to  become  true." 

"  Miss  Walton,  do  not  mislead  me  in  this  matter. 
You  know  how  implicitly  I  trust  you." 

"  And  I  would  rather  cast  myself  over  into  those 
waves  than  deceive  you,"  she  said  ;  "  and  if  I  saw 
them  swallowing  you  up  I  should  as  confidently  ex 
pect  to  meet  you  again,  as  my  father.  How  strangeX 
it  is  you  can  believe  that  Jesus  died  for  you  and 
yet  will  not  receive  you  when  you  are  doing  just 
that  which  He  died  to  accomplish  !  " 

He  took  a  few  rapid  turns  up  and  down  the 
deck  and  then  leaned  over  the  railing.  She  saw 
that  he  brushed  more  than  one  tear  into  the  waves. 
At  last  he  turned  and  gave  his  hand  in  warm  press 
ure,  saying, 

"  I  cannot  doubt  you,  and  I  will  doubt  Him  no 
longer.  I  see  that  I  have  wronged  Him,  and  the 
thought  causes  me  sorrow  even  in  my  joy." 

"  Now  you  are  my  brother  in  very  truth,"  she 
said,  gently,  with  glad  tears  in  her  own  eyes.  "  All 
that  we  have  passed  through  has  not  been  in  vain. 
How  wonderfully  God  has  led  us." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  either  spoke  again. 

At  last  he  said,  with  a  strange  wondering 
smile, 

"  To  think  that  such  as  -I  should   ever  reach 
22* 


514  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

Tieaven  !  As  Daddy  Tuggar  says,  '  there  will  be 
good  neighbors  there.' " 

She  answered  him  by  a  happy  smile,  and  then 
both  were  busy  with  their  own  thoughts  again. 
Annie  was  thinking  how  best  to  introduce  the  sub 
ject  so  near  her  heart,  his  reconciliation  with  Hun 
ting.' 

But  that  gentleman  had  become  so  tortured 
with  jealousy  and  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  any 
prolonged  conference  between  Annie  and  Gregory, 
that  he  dragged  himself  on  deck.  But  as  he  watched 
them  a  moment  before  they  saw  him,  he  was  quite 
reassured.  Gregory  was  merely  standing  near 
Annie,  and  both  were  looking  away  to  sea,  as  if 
they  had  nothing  special  to  say  to  each  other. 
Annie  was  pained  to  see  that  Gregory's  manner  did 
not  change  toward  Hunting.  He  was  perfectly  po 
lite,  but  nothing  more  ;  soon  he  excused  himself, 
thinking  they  would  like,  to  be  alone. 

In  the  afternoon  she  found  a  moment  to  say, 
"  Mr.  Gregory,  will  you  never  become  reconciled  to 
Mr.  Hunting  ?  You  surely  cannot  hate  him  now  ?  " 

He  replied  gravely,  "I  do  not  hate  him  any 
longer.  I  would  do  him  any  kindness  in  my  power, 
and  that  is  a  great  deal  for  me  to  say.  But  Mr. 
Hunting  has  no  real  wish  for  reconciliation." 

In  bitter  sorrow  she  was  compelled  to  admit  to 
herself  the  truth  of  his  words.  After  a  moment 
he  added, 

"If  he  does,  he  knows  the  exact  terms  on 
which  it  can  be  effected." 


WHA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  CO  ULD  DO.  5  r  5 

She  could  not  understand  it,  and  reproached 
herself  bitterly  that  so  many  doubts  in  regard  to 
her  affianced  would  come  unbidden,  and  force  them 
selves  on  her  mind.  The  feeling  grew  stronger  that 
there  was  wrong  on  both  sides,  and  perhaps  the 
most  on  Hunting's. 

But  that  was  a  memorable  day  to  Gregory.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Annie's  hand  had  drawn  aside 
the  sombre  curtain  of  his  unbelief,  and  shown  the 
path  of  life  shining  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect 
day.  Though  comparatively  lonely,  he  felt  that  his 
pilgrimage  could  not  now  be  unhappy,  and  that  everyA 
earthly  sorrow  would  at  last  find  its  cure  in  Heaven^ 
In  regard  to  her  earthly  future  he  could  only  hope 
and  trust.  It  would  be  a  terrible  trial  to  his  faith, 
if  she  were  permitted  to  marry  Hunting,  and  yet 
he  was  sure  it  would  all  be  well  at  last ;  for  was 
it  not  said,  that  God's  people  would  come  to  their 
rest  out  of  "  great  tribulation  ?  "  She  had  given 
him  the  impression  that,  under  any  circumstances, 
her  love  for  him  could  only  be  sisterly  in  its  charac 
ter. 

But  he  was  too  happy  in  his  new-born  hope  to 
think  of  much  else  that  day  ;  and,  finding  a  secluded 
nook,  he  searched  Annie's  Bible  for  truths  con 
firmatory  of  her  words.  On  every  side  they 
glowed  as  in  letters  of  light.  Then  late  that 
night  he  went  on  deck,  and  in  his  strong  excite 
ment  felt  as  if  walking  on -air  in  his  long  glad 
vigil. 

At  last,  growing,  wearied,  he  leaned  upon  the 


5i6 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


railing  and  1-ooked  out  upon  the  dark  waves, — not 
dark  to  him,  for  the  wanderer  at  last  had  seen  the 
light  of  his  heavenly  home — and  felt  that  it  would 
cheer  his  way  till  the  portals  opened  and  received 
him  into  rest. 

Suddenly,  up6n  the  top  of  a  distant  wave,  some 
thing  large  and  white  appeared,  and  then  it  sank 
into  an  ocean  valley.  Again  it  rose — a  sail,  then 
the  dark  hull  of  a  ship. 

In  dreamy  musing  he  began  wondering  how,  in 
mid-ocean,  with  so  many  leagues  of  space,  two 
vessels  should  cross  each  other's  tracks  so  near. 
"  It's  just  the  same  with  human  lives,"  he  thought. 
"  A  few  months  or  years  ago,  people  that  I  never 
knew,  and  might  have  passed  on  the  wider  ocean 
of  life,  unknowing  and  uncaring,  have  now  come  so 
near.  Why  is  it  ?  Why  does  that  ship,  with  the 
whole  Atlantic  before  it,  come  so  steadily  towards 
us?" 

It  did  come  so  steadily  and  so  near  that  a  feel 
ing  of  uneasiness  troubled  him,  but  he  thought  that 
those  in  charge  knew  their  business  better  than  he. 

A  moment  later  he  started  forward.  The  ship 
that  had  come  so  silently  and  phantom-like  across 
the  waves  seemed  right  in  the  path  of  the  steamer. 

Was  it  not  a  phantom  ? 

No  ;  there's  a  white  face  at  the  wheel — the  man 
is  making  a  sudden,  desperate  effort — it's  too  late. 

With  a  crash  like  thunder  the  seeming  phantom- 
ship  ploughs  into  the  steamer's  side. 

For  a  moment  Gregory  was  apalled  ;    stunned, 


WffA  T  A  CHRISTIAN  CO  ULD  DO.  5  r  7 

and  stared  at  the  fatal  intruder  that  fell  back  in 
strong  rebound,  and  dropped  astern. 

Then  he  became  conscious  of  the  confusion  and 
awakening  uproar  on  both  vessels.  Cries  of  agony, 
shouts  of  alarm,  and  hoarse  orders  pierced  the  mid 
night  air.  He  ran  forward  and  saw  the  yawning 
cavern  which  the  blow  had  made  in  the  ship's  side, 
and  heard  the  rush  of  water  into  the  hold.  Across 
the  chasm  he  saw  the  Captain's  pale  face  looking 
down  with  a  dismay  like  his  own. 

"  The  ship  will  sink  and  soon,"  he  shouted. 

There  was  no  denial. 

Down  to  the  startled  passengers  he  rushed, 
crying,  "  Awake  !  Escape  for  your  lives  !  " 

His  words  were  taken  up  and  echoed  in  every 
part  of  the  ship. 

He  struck  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  door  of  An 
nie's  state-room — "  Miss  Walton  !  " 

"  Oh,  what  has  happened  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  and  Miss  Morton  come  on  deck,  instantly; 
don't  stop  to  dress ;  snatch  a  shawl — anything. 
Lose  not  a  moment.  What  is  Hunting's  number  ?  " 

'*  Forty,  on  the  opposite  side." 

"  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment ;  be  ready." 

Hunting's  state-room  was  so  near  where  the 
steamer  had  been  struck,  that  its  door  was  jammed 
and  could  not  be  opened. 

"Help!  help!  I  can't  get  out,"  shrieked  the 
terrified  man. 

Gregory  wrenched  a  leaf  from  a  dining-room 
table  and  pried  the  door  open. 


518  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR, 

"  Come,"  he  said,  tl  you've  no  time  to  dress." 

Hunting  encased  his  trembling  form  in  a  blanket 
and  gasped,  as  he  followed, 

a  I'll  pay  you  back  every  cent  of  that  money 
with  interest." 

"  Make  your  peace  with  God.  We  may  soon  be 
before  Him,"  was  the  awful  response. 

Miss  Eulie  and  Annie  stood  waiting,  draped  in 
heavy  shawls. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  delay  ;  Hunting's  door  was  jam 
med  and  had  to  be  broken  open.  Come,"  and  put 
ting  his  arm  around  Miss  Eulie  and  taking  Annie's 
hand,  he  forced  them  rapidly  through  the  increas 
ing  throng  of  terror-stricken  passengers  that  were 
rushing  in  all  directions. 

Even  then,  with  a  strange  thrill  at  heart,  Annie 
thought,-  "  He  has  saved  his  enemy's  life." 

He  took  them  well  aft,  and  said  :  "  Don't  move, 
stand  just  here  till  I  return,"  and  then  pushed  his 
way  to  where  a  frantic  crowd  were  snatching  for  the 
life-preservers  which  were  being  given  out.  The 
officer,  knowing  him,  tossed  him  four  as  requested. 

Coming  back,  he  said  to  Hunting,  ''Fasten  that 
one  on  Miss  Morton,  and  keep  the  other."  Throw 
ing  down  his  own  for  a  moment,  he  proceeded  to 
fasten  Annie's.  He  would  not  trust  the  demoralized 
Hunting  to  do  anything  for  her,  and  he  was  right, 
for  Hunting's  hands  so  trembled  that  he  was  help 
less.  Having  seen  that  Annie's  was  secured  beyond 
a  doubt,  Gregory  also  tied  on  Miss  Eulie's. 

In  the  meantime,  a  passenger  snatched  his  own 


WHAT  A  CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO. 

preserving-belt,  which  he  had  been  trying  to  keep 
by  placing  his  foot  upon  it. 

"Stop!"  Annie  cried.  "O!  Mr.  Gregory,  he  has 
taken  it  and  you  have  none.  You  shall  have  mine," 
and  she  was  about  to  unfasten  it. 

He  laid  an  iron  grasp  upon  her  hands,  "  Stop 
such  folly,"  he  said,  sternly.  "Come  to  where  they 
are  launching  that  boat.  You  have  no  choice," 
and  he  forced  her  forward,  while  Hunting  followed 
with  Miss  Eulie. 

They  stood  waiting  where  the  lantern's  glare  fell 
upon  their  faces,  with  many  others  more  pale  and 
agonized. 

Annie  clung  to  him  as  her  only  hope,  (for 
Hunting  seemed  almost  paralyzed  with  fear)  and 
whispered : 

"Will  you  the  same  as  die  for  me  again?" 

"Yes,  God  bless  you,  a  thousand  times  if  there 
were  need,"  he  said  in  tones  as  gentle  as  his  former 
had  been  harsh. 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  There  was  no 
fear  upon  his  face,  only  unspeakable  love  for  her. 

"Are  you  not  afraid?"  she  asked. 

"You  said  I  was  a  Christian  to-day,  and  your 
Bible  and  God's  voice  in  my  heart  have  confirmed 
your  words — no,  I  am  at  peace  in  all  this  uproar, 
save  anxiety  for  you." 

She  buried  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  My  darling  sister,"  he  murmured  in  her  ear,' 
"How  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough." 

Then  he  started  suddenly,  and  tearing  off  the 


520  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

cape  of  his  coat,  said  to  Hunting,  "Fasten  that 
around  Miss  Morton,"  and  before  Annie  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  doing,  he  had  taken  off  the  body 
part  and  encased  her  in  it. 

"  Here  Hunting,  your  belt  is  not  secure,"  and 
he  tightened  the  straps. 

"Pass  the  ladies  forward,"  shouted  the  Captain. 

Of  course  those  nearest  were  embarked  first. 
They  had  to  take  their  turn,  and  the  boat  was  about 
full  when  Miss  Eulie  was  lowered  over  the  side. 

At  that  moment  the  increasing  throng,  with  a 
deeper  realization  of  danger,  as  the  truth  of  their 
situation  grew  plainer,  felt  the  first  mad  impulse  of 
panic,  and  there  was  a  rush  toward  the  boat. 
Hunting  felt  the  awful  contagion.  His  face  had  the 
look  of  a  hunted  wild  beast,  as  Annie  gazed  wonder- 
ingly  at  him,  but  as  he  half-started  with  the  others 
for  the  boat  she  understood  him.  Laying  a  restrain 
ing  hand  upon  his  arm,  she  said  in  a  low  tone, 

"  If  you  leave  my  side  no*w,  you  leave  it  forever." 

He  cowered  back  in  shame. 

The  officer  in  charge  of  the  boat  had  shouted : 

"  This  boat  is  for  women  and  children ;  as  you 
are  men  and  not  brutes,  stand  back." 

This  checked  the  desperate  mob  for  a  moment, 
and  Gregory  was  about  to  pass  Annie  down,  when 
there  was  another  mad  rush  led  by  the  blatant  in 
dividual  who  had  scouted  the  idea  of  Providence. 

.  "  Cut  away  all,"  shouted  the  captain  from    the 
bridge,  and  the  boat  dropped  astern. 

It  was  only  by  fierce  effort  that   Gregory  kept 


WHAT  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  $21 

himself  and  Annie  from  being  carried  over  the  side 
by  the  surging  mass,  many  of  whom  leaped  blindly 
over,  supposing  the  boat  still  there. 

Pressing  their  way  out  they  went  where  another 
boat  was  being  launched.  Hunting  followed  them 
as  a  child  might,  and  was  as  helpless.  He  now 
commenced  moaning — 

"  O  God,  what  shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Trust  Him,  and  be  a  man.  What  else  should 
you  do  ?  "  said  Gregory  sternly,  for  he  was  deeply 
disgusted  at  his  behavior.  , 

Around  this  boat  the  officer  in  charge  had  placed 
a  cordon  of  men  to  keep  the  crowd  away,  and  stood 
pistol  in  hand  to  enforce  his  orders.  But  the  boat 
was  scarcely  lowered  before  there  was  the  same 
wild  rush,  mostly  on  the  part  of  the  crew  and  steer 
age  passengers.  The  officer  fired  and  brought  down 
the  foremost,  but  the  phrensied  wretches  trampled 
him  down  with  those  helping,  together  with  women 
and  children,  as  a  herd  of  buffaloes  might.  They 
poured  over  into  the  boat,  swamped  it,  and  as  the 
steamer  moved  slowly  ahead,  were  left  struggling 
and  perishing  in  the  waves. 

Gregory  had  put  his  arm  around  Annie  and 
drawn  her  out  of  the  crush.  Fortunately  they  had 
been  at  one  side,  so  that  this  was  possible. 

"The  boats  are  useless,"  he  said  sadly.  "  There 
will  be  the  same  suicidal  folly  at  every  one,  even 
if  they  have  time  to  lower  any  more.  Come 
aft.  That  part  will  sink  last,  and  there  will 
be  less  suction  there,  when  the  ship  goes  down. 


522  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

We  may  find  something  that  will  help  keep  us 
afloat." 

Annie  clung  to  his  arm  and  said,  quietly,  "  I 
will  do  just  as  you  say,"  while  Hunting  followed  in 
the  same  maze  of  terror. 

They  had  hardly  got  well  away,  before  a  mast, 
with  its  rigging,  fell  where  they  had  stood,  crushing 
many  and  maiming  others,  rendering  them  helpless. 

" Awful !  awful !  "  shuddered  Hunting,  and  An 
nie  put  her  hand  before  her  eyes. 

An  officer,  with  some  men,  now  came  toward 
them  with  axes,  and  commenced  breaking  up  the 
after  wheel-house. 

"  Here  is  our  best  chance,"  said  Gregory.  "  Let 
us  calmly  await  the  final  moment  and  then  do  the 
best  we  can.  All  this  broken  timber  will  float,  and 
we  can  cling  to  it." 

The  ship  was  settling  fast,  and  had  become  like 
a  log  upon  the  water,  responding  slowly  and  heavi 
ly  to  the  action  of  the  waves.  But  under  the  cold, 
pitiless  starlight  of  that  winter  night,  what  heart 
rending  scenes  were  witnessed  upon  her  sinking 
deck.  Death  had  already  laid  its  icy  finger  on 
many,  and  many  more  were  grouped  near  in  its  de 
spairing  expectation. 

While  many,  like  Hunting,  were  almost  paralyzed 
with  fear,  and  others  shrieked  and  cried  aloud  in  agony 
— while  some  prayed  incoherently  and  others  rushed 
back  and  forth  as  if  demented,  there  were  not  want 
ing  numerous  noble  instances  of  faith  and  courage. 
Fortunately,  there  were  not  many  ladies  aboard, 


WHAT  A   CHRISTIAN  COULD  DO.  523 

and  most  of  these  proved  that  woman's  fortitude 
was  not  a  poetic  fiction.  One  or  two  family  groups 
stood  near  in  close  embrace,  and  some  men  calmly 
folded  their  arms  upon  their  breasts,  and  met  their 
fate  as  God  would  have  them. 

Annie  was   conscious  of  a  strange   peace   and 
hopefulness.     She  thrilled  with  the  thought  which 
she  expressed  to  Gregory : 
y  How  soon  I  may  see  father  and  mother." 

She  stood  now  with  one  hand  on  Hunting's 
trembling  arm,  for  at  that  supreme  moment  her 
heart  was  very  tender,  and  she  pitied  while  she 
wondered  at  him.  But  Gregory  was  a  tower  of 
strength.  He  took  her  hand  in  both  his  own,  and 
said, 

"  I  can  say  the  same,  and  more.  Both  father  and 
mother  are  awaiting  me — and,  Annie,  darling,"  he 
whispered  tenderly,  "  you,  too,  will  be  there.  So, 
courage  !  '  Good  neighbors,'  soon." 

Why  did  Annie's  heart  beat  so  strangely  at  his 
words  ? 

"  O,  God,  have  mercy  on  me !"  groaned  the 
man  who  had  seemed,  but  was  not. 

"  Amen  !  "  breathed  both  Annie  and  Gregory, 
fervently. 

Suddenly  they  felt  themselves  lifted  in  the  air, 
and,  looking  toward  the  bow,  saw  it  going  under, 
while  what  seemed  a  great  wave  came  rolling 
toward  them,  bearing  upon  its  dark  crest  white, 
agonized  faces  and  struggling  forms. 

Annie  gave  a  swift,  inquiring  look  to  Gregory, 


1,24 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


His  face  was  turned  heavenward,  in  calm  and  noble 
trust. 

Hunting's  wild  cry  mingled  with  the  despairing 
shriek  of  many  others,  but  ended  in  a  gurgling  groan 
as  he  and  all  sank  beneath  the  waters. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

UNMASKED. 

IT  seemed  that  they  passed  through  miles  of  water 
that  roared  around  them  like  a  cataract.  But 
Annie  and  Gregory  held  to  each  other  in  their  strong, 
convulsive  grasp,  and  her  cork  belt  caused  him  to  rise 
with  her  to  the  surface  again.  A  piece  of  the 
wheel-house  floated  near;  Gregory  swam  for  it,  and 
pushing  it  to  Annie  helped  her  upon  it.  Hunting 
also  grasped  it.  But  it  would  not  sustain  the 
weight  of  all  three,  especially  as  Gregory  had  no 
preserver  on. 

One  must  leave  it  that  the  other  two  might  es 
cape. 

"  Good-bye,  Annie  darling,"  said  Gregory.  "  We 
will  meet  again  in  Heaven  if  not  on  earth.  Cling 
to  your  plank  as  long  as  you  can,  and  a  boat  may 
pick  you  up.  Good-bye,  poor  Hunting,  I'm  sorry 
for  you." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  gasped  Annie. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  this  won't  float  all  three  ? 
I  will  try  to  find  something  else." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Annie,  "  don't  leave  me  :  you 
have  no  belt  on.  If  you  go  I  will  too." 

<!  I   once  lived  for  your  sake  ;  now  you  must 


526  OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 

for  mine.  I  may  save  myself,  but  if  you  leave 
we  will  both  drown.  Good-bye,  dearest.  If  I  reach 
home  first,  I'll  watch  and  wait  till  you  come." 

She  felt  him  kiss  her  hand  where  she  clung  to 
her  frail  support,  and  then  he  disappeared  in  the 
darkness. 

"  Why  did  you  let  him  go  ?  "  she  said  to  Hunt 
ing — "  you  who  have  a  preserver  on  ?  "  j 

"  O  God  have  mercy  on  me ! "  groaned  the 
wretched  man. 

Annie  now  gave  up  all  hope  of  escape,  and  in 
deed  wished  to  die.  She  was  almost  sure  that 
Gregory  had  perished,  and  felt  that  her  best  loved 
ones  were  in  Heaven. 

She  would  have  permitted  herself  to  be  washed 
away  had  not  a  sense  of  duty  to  live  until  God  took 
her  life,  kept  her  firm.  But  every  moment  it  seemed 
that  her  failing  strength  would  give  way,  and  her 
benumbed  hands  loosen  their  hold. 

"  But,"  she  murmured,  in  the  noblest  triumph  of 
faith, X I  will  sink  not  into  these  cold  depths,  but 
in  my  Saviour's  arms."^ 

Toward  the  last,  when  alone  and  in  the  very 
presence  of  death,  He  seemed  nearest  and  dearest. 
She  could  not  bear  to  look  at  the  dark,  angry,  waters 
strewn  with  floating  corpses.  She  had  a  sickening 
dread  that  Gregory's  white  face  might  float  by.  So 
she  closed  her  eyes,  and  only  thought  of  Heaven, 
that  was  so  near  that  its  music  seemed  to  'mingle 
with  the  surging  of  the  waves. 

She  tried  to  say  a  comforting  word  to  Hunting, 


UNMASKED.  §2? 

but  the  terror-stricken  man  could  only  gioan  me 
chanically, 

"  God,  have  mercy  on  me." 

Soon  she  began  to  grow  numb  all  over.  A 
dreamy  peace  pervaded  her  mind,  and  she  was  but 
partially  conscious. 

She  was  aroused  by  hearing  her.  name  called. 
Did  the  voice  come  from  that  shore  beyond  all  dark 
waves  -of  earthly  trouble?  At  first  she  was  not 
sure. 

Again  and  louder  came  the  cry,  but  too  full  of 
human  agony  to  be  a  heavenly  voice, 

11  Annie  !  Annie  !  " 

"  Here,"  she  cried,  faintly,  while  Hunting,  help 
ful  for  once,  shrieked  aloud  above  the  roar  of  the 
waves. 

Then  she  heard  the  sound  of  oars,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  strong  hands  lifted  her  into  a  boat, 
and  she  found  herself  in  Gregory's  arms,  her  head 
pillowed  on  his  breast.  Then  all  grew  dark. 

When  she  again  became  conscious  she  found 
herself  in  a  small  cabin,  with  many  others  in  like 
pitiable  plight.  Her  aunt  was  bending  over  her  on 
one  side  and  Gregory  on  the  other,  chafing  her 
hands.  At  first  she  could  not  remember  or  under 
stand,  and  stared  vacantly  at  them. 

"  Annie,  darling,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  "  don't  you 
know  me?" 

Then  glad  intelligence  dawned  in  her  face,  and 
she  reached  out  her  arms,  and  each  clasped  the 
other  as  one  might  receive  the  dead  back  to  life. 


528  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

But  quickly  she  turned  and  asked, 

"Where  is  Mr.  Gregory?" 

"  Here,  safe  and  sound,"  he  said,  joyously,  "  and 
Hunting,  too.  I  shall  bless  him  all  the  days  of  my 
life,  for  his  cries  drowned  old  ocean's  hoarse  voice 
and  brought  us  right  to  you." 

Hunting  looked  as  if  he  did  not  exactly  relish 
the  tribute,  but  he  stooped  down  and  kissed 
Annie,  who  permitted  rather  than  received  the 
caress. 

"  How  did  you  escape  ?  "  she  asked  Gregory, 
eagerly. 

"  Well,  I  swam  toward  the  ship  that  struck  us, 
whose  lights  I  saw  twinkling  in  the  distance,  till 
almost  exhausted.  I  was  on  the  point  of  giving 
up,  when  a  small  piece  of  the  wreck  floated  near. 
By  a  great  effort  I  succeeded  in  reaching  it.  Then  a 
little  later  a  boat  from  this  ship  picked  me  up  and  we 
started  after  you  and  any  others  that  could  be  found. 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  quite 'a  number  that  went 
down  with  the  ship  were  saved." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  way  to  bring  the  warm 
blood  into  his  face,  and  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"  How  can  I  ever  repay  you  ?  " 

"  By  doing  as  you  once  said  to  me,  *  Live !  get 
strong  and  well.'  Good-bye  now,  Miss  Morton  will 
take  care  of  you." 

Her  eyes  followed  him  till  he  disappeared,  then 
she  turned  and  hid  her  face  on  Miss  Eulie's  shoul 
der.  The  good  old  lady  was  a  little  puzzled,  and  so 
was  Hunting,  though  he  had  dismal  forebodings. 


UNMASKED. 


529 


But  he  was  so  glad  to  have  escaped  that  he  could 
not  indulge  in  very  bitter  regrets  just  then.  As  his 
mind  recovered  its  poise,  however,  and  he  had  time 
to  think  it  all  over,  there  came  a  sickening  sense  of 
humiliation. 

In  a  few  minutes  Gregory  returned  and  said  to 
Annie,  '•  See  how  honored  you  are.  I've  been  so 
lucky  as  to  get  the  Captain's  best  coat  for  you,  and 
those  wet  things  that  would  chill  you  to  death  can 
be  taken  off.  You  can  give  my  coat  to  Hunting. 
You  see  I  was  up  at  the  time  of  the  accident,  and 
so  am  dressed." 

"  If  I  am  to  wear  the  Captain's  coat,"  said  An 
nie,  "  then,  with  some  of  his  authority,  I  order  you 
to  go  and  take  care  of  yourself.  You  have  done 
enough  for  others  for  a  little  while." 

"  Ay,  ay,  Captain,"  said  Gregory,  smiling,  as  he 
again  vanished. 

It  would  only  be  painful  to  dwell  on  the  dreary 
days  and  nights  during  which  the  comparatively 
small  sailing  vessel  was  beating  back  against  a 
stormy  wind  to  the  port  from  which  she  had  sailed. 
She  had  been  much  injured  by  the  collision,  and 
many  were  doubtful  whether,  after  all,  they  would 
ever  see  land.  Thus,  to  the  manifold  miseries  of 
the  rescued  passengers,  was  added  continued  anxi 
ety  as  to  their  fate.  It  was,  indeed,  a  sad  company 
that  was  crowded  in  that  small  cabin.  Half-clothed, 
bruised,  sick,  and  fearful,  what  seemed  an  endless 
experience  was  but  a  long  night-mare  of  trouble, 
while  some,  who  had  lost  their  best  and  dearest,  re- 

23 


530  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

fused  to  be  comforted  and  almost  wished  that  they 
had  perished  also. 

Annie's  gratitude  that  their  little  party  had  all 
been  spared  grew  stronger  every  hour,  and  the  one 
through  whose  efforts,  under  God,  they  had  been 
saved  grew  daily  dearer. 

At  first  she  let  her  strong  affection  go  out  to 
him  unchecked,  not  realizing  whither  she  was  drift 
ing.  But  a  little  characteristic  event  occurred 
which  revealed  her  to  herself. 

Her  exposure  had  again  caused  quite  a  serious 
illness,  and  she  saw  little  of  Gregory  for  a  few  days. 
Hunting  claimed  his  right  to  be  with  her  as  far  as 
it  was  possible.  Though  she  would  not  admit  it 
to  herself,  she  almost  shrank  from  him.  Of  course 
the  sailing  ship  had  been  provisioned  for  only  a  com 
paratively  small  crew,  and  the  sudden  and  large  ac 
cession  to  the  number  threatened  to  add  the  terrors 
of  famine  to  their  other  misfortunes. 

Annie  had  given  almost  all  of  her  allowance 
away.  Indeed  she  had  no  appetite,  and  revolted  at 
the  coarse  food  served.  But  she  noticed  that  Hunt 
ing  ate  all  of  his,  or  else  put  some  quietly  away,  in 
view  of  future  need.  She  said  to  him,  upon  this 
occasion, 

"  Can't  you  spare  a  little  of  your  portion  for  those 
poor  people  over  there  ?  They  look  half-famished." 

"  I  will  do  so  if  you  wish,"  he  replied,  "  but  it 
would  hardly  be  wise.  Think  what  tremendous 
business  interests  I  represent,  and  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  that  I  keep  up." 


UNMASKED.  531 

"  Mr.  Gregory  is  almost  starving  himself,"  said 
Miss  Eulie,  quietly.  "  I  feel  very  anxious  about 
him." 

"  I  represent  a  business  of  thousands  where  Mr. 
Gregory  does  hundreds,"  said  Hunting,  compla 
cently. 

"  I  wish  you  represented  something  else,"  said 
Annie,  bitterly,  turning  away. 

Her  words  and"  manner  jostled  him  out  of  him 
self.  A  principle  that  seemed  to  him  so  sound  and 
generally  accepted,  appeared  sordid  and  selfish  cal 
culation  to  Annie,  and  she  felt  that  Gregory  repre 
sented  infinitely  greater  riches  in  his  self-denial  for 
others. 

Hunting  saw  his  blunder  and  instantly  carried 
all  his  portion  to  those  whom  Annie  had  pointed 
out.  But  it  was  too  late.  He  had  shown  his  inner 
nature  again  in  a  way  that  repelled  Annie's  very 
soul.  She  turned  sick  at  the  thought  of  being 
bound  to  such  a  man  ! 

At  first  she  had  tried  to  excuse  his  helpless 
terror  on  the  ship  by  thinking  it  a  physical  trait. 
But  this  was  a  moral  trait.  It  was  a  sudden  insight 
into  the  cold  dark  depths  of  his  nature. 

Immediately  after  the  disaster  she  had  been  too 
sick  and  bewildered  to  realize  her  situation.  Her 
engagement  was  such  an  old  and  accepted  fact,  that 
at  first  no  thought  of  any  other  consummation  than 
marriage  entered  her  mind.  But  she  already  looked 
forward  to  it  only  as  a  duty,  and  felt  that  her  love 
for  Hunting  would  be  that  of  pity  rather  than  trust 


532  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  B  URR. 

and  honor.  But  she  was  so  truthful — so  chained 
by  her  promises,  that  her  engagement  rested  upon 
her  like  a  solemn  obligation.  Again,  it  had  been 
entered  into  under  circumstances  so  tenderly  sacred, 
that  even  the  wish  to  escape  from  it  seemed  like 
sacrilege.  But  she  said  in  intense  bitterness : 

"  Dear  father  was  deceived  also.  We  did  not 
know  him  as  we  should.'* 

And  yet  she  had  nothing  against  Hunting,  save 
a  growing  lack  of  congeniality  and  his  cowardice 
at  a  time  when  few  men  could. be  heroic.  In  her 
strong  sense  of  justice  she  felt  that  she  could  not 
condemn  a  man  for  an  infirmity.  And  yet  her 
cheeks  tingled  with  shame  as  she  remembered  his 
weakness,  and-  she  felt  that  a  professing  Christian 
ought  to  have  done  a  little  better  under  any  cir 
cumstances. 

But  when,  by  the  little  event  above  described,  she 
saw  his  hard,  calculating  spirit,  her  whole  nature 
revolted  from  him  in  almost  loathing. 

After  a  little  time  she  told  him  that  she  wanted 
to  be  alone,  and  he  went  away  cursing  his  own  folly. 
Miss  Eulie,  thinking  she  wished  to  sleep,  also  left  her. 

"How  can  I  marry  him?"  she  groaned,  "and 
yet,  how  can  I  escape  such  an  engagement?" 

When  her  aunt  returned  she  found  her  sobbing 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

"Why,  Annie  dear,  what  is  the  matter?"  she 
asked. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  moaned,  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  pillow. 


UNMASKED.  533 

Then  that  judicious  lady  looked  very  intelligent, 
but  said  nothing  more.  She  sat  down  and  com 
menced  stroking  Annie's  brown,  disheveled  hair. 
But  instead  of  showing  very  great  sympathy  for 
her  niece,  she  had  an  unusually  complacent  expres 
sion.  Gregory  had  a  strong  but  discreet  friend  in 
the  camp. 

When  Annie  became  calmer,  she  said  hesitating 
ly,  "  Do  you  think  —  is  Mr.  Gregory — doesn't  he 
eat  scarcely  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  he  is  really  wronging  himself.  I  heard  it 
said  that  the  Captain  had  threatened,  jokingly,  to  put 
him  in  irons  if  he  did  not  obey  orders  and  eat  his 
allowance." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  make — Do  you  think  he 
would  do  better  if  I  should  ask  him  ?  "  again  asked 
Annie,  with  her  face  buried  in  the  pillow. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Eulie,  very  gravely,  though 
with  a  smile  upon  her  face,  "  Mr.  Gregory  is  very 
self-willed,  especially  about  some  things,  but,  I  do 
think  that  you  have  more  power  over  him  than  any 
one  else.'' 

"  Won't  you  tell  him  that  I  want  to  see  him  ?  " 

He  was  very  glad  to  come.  Annie  tried  hard  to 
be  very  firm  and  composed,  but,  with  her  red  eyes 
and  full  heart,  did  not  succeed  very  well. 

At  first  he  was  a  little  embarrassed  by  her  close 
scrutiny,  for  she  had  wrought  herself  up  into  the 
expectation  of  seeing  a  gaunt,  famine-stricken  man. 
But  his  cheeks,  though  somewhat  hollow,  were  rud 
dy  and  his  faced  bronzed  by  exposure.  Instead  of 


534  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

being  pained  by  his  cadaverous  aspect,  she  was 
impressed  by  his  manly  beauty ;  but  she  said, 

"  I  have  sent  for  you  that  I  might  give  you  a 
scolding." 

"  I'm  all  meekness,"  he  said  a  little  wonderingly. 

"  Auntie  tells  me  that  you  don't  eat  anything." 

"  That  is  just  what  she  says  of  you." 

"  But  I'm  ill  and  can't  eat." 

"  Neither  can  I." 

11  Why  not?" 

"  How  can  a  man  eat  when  there  are  hungry 
women  aboard  ?  It  would  choke  me." 

Instead  of  scolding  him,  she  again  buried  her 
face  in  her  pillow,  and  burst  into  tears. 

He  was  a  little  perplexed,  but  said  gently, 

"  Come,  my  dear  little  sister,  I  hope  you  are  not 
worrying  about  me.  I  assure  you  there  is  no  cause. 
I  never  felt  better,  and  the  worst  that  can  happen 
is  a  famine  in  England  when  I  reach,  there.  It 
grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  see  you  so  pale  and 
weak.  The  Captain  says  I  have  a  bad  conscience, 
but  it's  only  anxiety  for  you  that  makes  me  so  rest 
less." 

"Do  you  stay  upon  deck  all  night  this  bitter 
weather  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  want  to  be  ready  if  anything  should 
happen." 

"  O  Walter,  Walter,  how  I  have  wronged  you  ?  " 

"  No,  beg  your  pardon,  you  have  righted  me. 
What  was  I  when  I  first  knew  you,  Annie  Walton? 
There  is  some  chance  of  my  being  a  man  now.  But 


UNMASKED. 


535 


come,  let  me  cheer  you  up.  I  have  good  news  for 
you.  If  I  had  lost  every  dollar  on  that  ship  I  would 
,  still  be  rich,  for  your  little  Bible  (I  shall  always  call 
it  yours)  remained  safely  in  my  over-coat  pocket, 
and  you  brought  it  aboard.  Now,  let  me  read  you 
something  that  will  comfort  you.  I  find  a  place 
where  it  is  written,  '  Commence  here/  Can  you 
account  for  that  ?  " 

And  he  read  that  chapter,  so  old  but  inexhausti 
ble,  beginning  "  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled." 

Having  finished  it,  he  said, 

"  I  will  leave  my  treasure  with  you,  as  you  may 
wish  to  read  some  yourself.  In  regard  to  the  sub 
ject  of  the  '  scolding/  which,  by  the  way,  I  have 
not  yet  received,  if  Miss  Morton  here  can  tell  me 
that  you  are  eating  more,  I  will.  Good-bye/' 

Annie's  appetite  improved  from  that  hour.  She 
seized  upon  the  old  Bible  and  turned  its  stained 
leaves  with  the  tenderest  interest.  As  she  did  so, 
her  harsh  note  to  Gregory,  written  when  Hunting 
complained  that  he  had  been  insulted,  dropped. 
How  doubly  harsh  and  unjust  her  words  seemed 
now !  Then  she  read  his  words,  "  Forgiven,  my 
dear,  deceived  sister."  She  kissed  them  passion 
ately,  then  tore  the  note  to  fragments.  Miss  Eulie 
watched  her  curiously,  then  stole  away  with  another 
smile.  She  liked  the  spell  that  was  acting  now,  but 
knew  Annie  too  well  to  say  much.  Miss  Eulie  was 
one  of  those  rare  women  who  could  let  a  good  work 
of  this  kind  go  on  without  meddling. 

Annie  did  not  read  the  Bible,  but  only  laid  it 


536  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

against  her  cheek.  Then  Hunting  came  back  look 
ing  very  discontented,  for  he  had  managed  to  catch 
glimpses  of  her  interview  with  Gregory. 

"  Shall  I  read  to  you- from  that  book?"  he  said. 

She  shook:  her  head. 

"  You  seemed  to  enjoy  having  Mr.  Gregory  read 
it  to  you,"  he  said,  meaningly. 

Color  came  into  her  pale  face,  but  she  only  said, 
".He  did  not  stay  long.  I'm  ill  a-nd  tired." 

"  It's  rather  hard,  Annie,"  he  continued,  with  a 
deeply  injured  air,  "  to  see  another  more  welcome 
at  your  side  than  I  am." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  sudden 
•passion.  "  How  much  time  has  Mr.  Gregory  been 
with  me  since  he  saved  both  our  lives?  You  heard 
my  father  say  that  I  should  be  a  sister  to  him  ;  and 
yet  I  believe  that  you  would  like  me  to  become  a 
stranger.  Have  you  forgotten  that  but  for  him  you 
would  have  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic  ? 
There,  there,  leave  me  now,  I'm  weak  and  ill — leave 
me  till  we  can  both  get  in  better  moods."' 

Pale  with  suppressed  shame  and  anger,  he  went 
away,  wishing  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  that  Gregory 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  Atlantic. 

Again  she  buried  her  face  in  her  pillow  and 
sobbed  and  moaned  :  "  How  can  I  marry  that  man ! 
He  makes  my  very  flesh  creep." 

Then  for  the  first  time  came  the  swift  thought, 
"  I  could  marry  Gregory,  I'm  happy  the  moment 
I'm  near  him,"  and  her  face  burned  as  did  the 
thought  in  her  heart. 


UNMASKED. 


537 


Then  she  turned  pale  with  fear  at  herself.  A 
sudden  sense  of  guilt  alarmed  her,  for  she  had  the 
feeling  that  she  belonged  to  Hunting.  So  solemn 
had  been  her  engagement  that  the  thought  of  lov 
ing  another  seemed  almost  like  disloyalty  to  the 
marriage-tie.  With  a  despairing  sigh,  she  mur 
mured, 

"  Chained,  chained/' 

Then  strongly  arose  the  womanly  instinct  of 
self-shielding  and  the  purpose  to  hide  her  secret. 
An  hour  before,  Gregory  could  not  come  too  often. 
He  might  have  stooped  down  and  as  a  brother 
kissed  her  lips,  and  she  would  not  have  thought  it 
strange  or  unnatural.  Now,  she  dreaded  to  see  him. 
And  yet  when  would  he  be  out  of  her  thoughts  ? 
She  hoped  and  half-believed  that  he  was  beginning 
to  regard  her  as  a  sister,  and  s.till^  deep  in  her  soul 
this  thought  had  an  increasing  sting  of  pain. 

Ah  !  Annie,  you  thought  you  loved  before,  but  a 
master-spirit  has  now  come  who  will  stir  depths  in 
your  nature  of  which  neither  you  nor  Hunting 
dreamed. 

Hunting,  seemingly,  had  no  further  cause  to  be 
jealous  of  Gregory  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 
With  the  whole  strength  of  her  proud,  resolute  na 
ture,  Annie  guarded  her  secret.  She  sent  kind  mes 
sages  to  Gregory,  and  returned  the  Bible,  but  did 
not  ask  him  to  visit  her  again.  Neither  did  she 
come  on  deck  herself  till  they  were  entering  the- 
harbor  of  an  English  port. 

When  Gregory  came  eagerly  toward  her,  though 


538  OPENING  A  CHES  TNUT  B  URR. 

her  face  flushed  deeply,  she  greeted  him  with  a 
kind  and  gentle  dignity,  which,  nevertheless,  threw 
a  chill  upon  his  heart.  All  the  earnest  words  he 
meant  to  say  died  upon  his  lips,  and  gave  way  to 
mere  common-places.  Drawing  her  heavy  shawl 
about  her,  she  sat  down  and  looked  back  toward 
the  sea  as  if  regretting  leaving  it  with  all  its  horrors. 
He  thought : 

"When  have  I  seen  such  a  look  of  patient  sorrow 
on  any  human  face  ?  She  saw  the  love  I  could  not 
hide  at  our  last  interview.  I  did  not  deceive  her  by 
calling  her  '  sister.'  Her  great  generous  heart  is 
grieving  because  of  my  hopeless  love,  while  in  the 
most  delicate  manner,  she  reminds  me  how  vain  it 
is.  Now  I  know  why  she  did  not  send  for  me 
again." 

He  walked  away  from  the  little  group  pale  and 
faint,  and  she  could  not  keep  back  the  hot  tears  as 
she  watched  him.  Miss  Eulie  was  also  observant, 
and  saw  how  they  misunderstood  each  other.  But 
she  acted  as  if  blind,  feeling  that  quickly  coming 
events  would  right  everything  better  than  any 
words  of  hers. 

Gregory  went  to  another  part  of  the  vessel,  and 
leaned  over  the  railing.  Annie  noticed  with  an 
absorbing  interest  that  he  seemed  as  indifferent  to 
the  delight  of  the  passengers  at  the  prospect  of 
soon  being  on  land,  and  the  bustle  on  the  wharf,  as 
he  had  appeared  at  the  commencement  of  the  voy 
age.  But  she  rightly  guessed  that  there  was  tumult 
at  his  heart.  There  certainly  was  at  hers.  When 


UNMASKED.  539 

the  vessel  dropped  anchor  and  they  would  soon  go 
ashore,  he  turned  with  the  resolve,  "  I  will  show 
her  that  I  can  bear  my  hard  lot  like  a  man,"  and 
again  came  toward  them,  a  proud  and  courteous 
gentleman. 

Annie  saw  and  understood  the  change,  and  a 
sense  of  loneliness  and  isolation  chilled  her  heart 
greater  than  if  the  stormy  Atlantic  rolled  between 
them.  And  yet  his  manner  toward  her  was  very 
gentle,  very  considerate. 

He  took  charge  of  Miss  Eulie,  and  soon  they 
were  at  the  best  hotel  in  the  place.  The  advent  of 
the  survivors  caused  great  excitement  in  the  city, 
and  they  were  all  overwhelmed  with  kindness  and 
sympathy. 

After  a  few  hours  Gregory  returned  to  the  hotel, 
dressed  in  quiet  elegance,  and  he  seemed  to  Annie 
the  very  ideal  of  manhood ;  while  she,  in  her 
mourning  robes,  seemed  to  jiim  the  perfection  of 
woman  kind.  But  their  manner  toward  each  other 
was  very  quiet,  and  only  Miss  Eulie  guessed  the 
subterranean  fires  that  were  burning  in  each  heart. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  will  be  perfectly  com 
fortable  here?  "  he  asked. 

"  Entirely  so,"  Annie  replied,  "  Mr.  Hunting  has 
telegraphed  to  my  uncle  and  we  will  await  him  here. 
I  do  not  feel  quite  strong  enough  to  travel  yet." 

"  Then  I  can  leave  you  for  a  day  or  two  with  a 
quiet  mind,  I  must  go  to  Liverpool." 

She  turned  a  shade  paler,  but  only  said,  "  £  am 
very  sorry  you  must  leave  us  so  soon." 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  missed  a  note  from  your  Bible,"  he  said,  in 
a  low  tone. 

"  Forgive  me  !  I  destroyed  it/'  and  she  turned 
and  walked  to  the  window  to  hide  her  burning 
face. 

Just  then  Hunting  entered,  and  a  few  moments 
later  Gregory  bade  them  a  quiet  farewell. 

"  How  wonderful  is  her  constancy!  "  he  sighed 
as  he  went  away.  "  How  can  she  love  and  cling  to 
that  man  after  what  he  has  shown  himself!  Well, 
this  is  one  of  those  times  when  a  man  must  just 
shut  his  eyes  and  trust  God." 

He  had  utterly  misunderstood  her  and  believed 
that  she  had  destroyed  the  note,  not  because  of  her 
own  harsh  words,  but  of  his  reflecting  on  Hunting. 

'Annie  thought  she  knew  what  sorrow  was,  but 
confessed  to  herself  in  bitterness,  after  he  had  gone, 
that  she  had  not  before. 

If  Hunting  secretly  exulted  that  Gregory  was 
out  of  the  way,  and  had  been  taught  by  Annie  that 
he  must  keep  his  distance,  as  he  would  express  it, 
he  was  secretly  uneasy  at  her  manner  toward  him. 
She  merely  patiently  endured  his  lavish  attentions, 
and  seemed  relieved  when  he  was  compelled  to 
leave  her  for  a  time.  "  She  will  feel  and  act  differ 
ently,"  he  thought,  "  when  she  gets  well  and  strong, 
and  will  be  the  same  as  before,"  a*nd  the  harrassing 
fears  and  jealousy  that  tortured  him  at  sea  gave 
way  to  complacent  confidence.  But  he  was  greatly 
provoked  that  he  could  scarcely  ever  see  Annie 
without  the  embarrassing  presence  of  Miss  Eulie. 


UNMASKED.  54.1 

He  had  a  growing  antipathy  for  that  lady,  while  he 
felt  sure  that  she  did  not  like  him.  But  Annie  was 
very  grateful  to  her  aunt  for  quietly  shielding  her 
from  caresses  that  every  hour  grew  more  unendur 
able. 

Gregory  was  detained  somewhat  in  Liverpool, 
and  on  his  return,  to  the  city  where  he  had  left  An 
nie  and  Miss  Eulie,  he  met  Mr.  Kemp,  whom  he 
had  known  well  in  New  York,  also  seeking  them. 
This  gentleman  greeted  him  most  warmly,  for  he 
had  read  good  accounts  of  Gregory's  behavior  in 
the  papers.  In  a  few  moments  they  entered  the 
hotel  together.  Fortunately,  as  Gregory  thought, 
but  most  unfortunately,  as  he  learned  afterward, 
Hunting  was  out  at  the  time. 

The  warm  color  came  into  Annie's  face  as  he 
greeted  her,  and  she  seemed  so  honestly  and  eagerly 
glad  to  see  him  that  his  sore  heart  was  comforted. 

Mr.  Kemp's  manner  toward  his  niece  and  sister 
was  affectionate  in  the  extreme.  Indeed,  the  good 
old  man  seemed  quite  overcome  by  his  feelings,  and 
Gregory  was  about  to  retire,  but  he  said : 

"  No,  please  stay,  sir.  -Forgive  my  weakness,  if 
it  is  such.  You  don't  know  how  dear  these  people 
are  to  me,  and  when  I  think  of  all  they  have  passed 
through,  I  can  hardly  control  myself." 

"  We  would  not  be  here,  Uncle,"  said  Annie,  in 
a  low,  thrilling  voice,  "  had  it  not  been  for  Mr. 
Gregory." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  came  and  gave  Grego 
ry's  hand  such  a  grasp  that  it  ached  for  hours  after. 


542  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  I  have  been  reading,"  he  said,  "  warm  tributes  to 
his  conduct  in  the  papers,  but  I  did  not  know 
that  we  were  all  under  such  deep  personal  obli 
gations.  Come,  Annie,  you  must  tell  me  all  about 
it." 

"  Not  now,  please,"  said  Gregory,  "  I  start  in  a 
few  moments  for  Paris,  and  must  even  now  say 
good-bye,  for  a  little  time.  I  warn  you,  Mr.  Kemp, 
that  Miss  Walton  will  exaggerate  my  services.  She 
has  a  way  of  over-valuing  what  is  done  for  her,  and 
under-valuing  what  she  does  for  others." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Kemp,  with  a  significant  nod, 
"  that's  a  trait  that  runs  in  the  Walton  blood." 

"I  long  ago  came  to  regard  their  blood  as  of  the. 
truest  blue,"  said  Gregory,  laughing. 

"  Must  you  leave  us  again,  so  soon  ?  "  said  An 
nie,  with  a  slight  tremble  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Walton,  even  now  I  should  be  on  the 
way  to  the  train.  But  you  are  surrounded  by  those 
who  can  best  take  care  of  you.  Still  I  earnestly 
hope  that,  before  many  days,  I  shall  see  you  in 
Paris,  and  in  greatly  improved  health.  So  I  won't 
say  good-bye,  but  only  good-morning." 

Ah,  he  did  not  know,  or  he  would  have  said 
"  farewell"  with  a  heavy  heart. 

His  parting  from  her  was  most  friendly,  and  the 
pressure  of  his  hand  warm  and  strong,  but  Annie  felt, 
with  a  deep,  unsatisfied  pain  at  heart,  that  it  was 
all  too  formal.  Mr.  Kemp  was  exceedingly  demon 
strative,  and  said : 

"  Wait  till  I  see  you  in  Paris,  and  I  will  over^ 


UNMASKED.  543 

whelm  you  with  questions,  especially  about  your 
partner,  my  dear  old  friend,  Mr.  Burnett." 

But  staid,  quiet  Miss  Eulie  surprised  them  all. 
She  just  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  gave  him 
a  hearty  kis^  saying, 

"  Take  that,  Mr.  Gregory,  from  one  who  loves 
you  like  a  mother." 

He  returned  the  caress  most  tenderly,  and 
hastened  away  to  hide  his  moistened  eyes. 

Then  envious  Annie  bitterly  reproached  herself 
that  she  had  been  so  cold,  and  to  make  amends, 
commenced  giving  a  glowing  account  of  all  that 
Gregory  had  done  for  them. 

The  old  gentleman  listened  with  an  amused 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  secretly  exulting*  over  the 
thought,  "  It  is  not  going  to  break  her  heart  to  part 
with  Hunting." 

In  the  midst  of  her  graphic  story  that  unfortu 
nate  man  entered,  and  her  words  died  upon  her 
lips.  She  rose  quietly,  and  said, 

"  Charles,  this  is  my  uncle,  Mr.  Kemp." 

But  she  was  amazed  to  see  Mr.  Kemp,  who  thus 
far  had  seemed  geniality  itself,  acknowledge  her 
affianced  with  freezing  coldness,  and  Hunting.turned 
deathly  pale  with  a  presentiment  of  disaster. 

"  Be  seated,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kemp,  stiffly,  "  I  wish 
to  make  a  brief  explanation,  and  after  that  will 
relieve  you  of  t£e  care  of  these  ladies." 

Hunting  sank  in  a  chair,  and  Annie  saw  some 
thing  of  the  same  terror  on  his  face  which  had  sick* 
ened  her  on  the  sinking  ship. 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Annie/  said  her  uncle  very  gravely,  "  have 
you  entire  confidence  in  me  ?  Your  father  had.'* 

"  Certainly,"  said  Annie,  wondering  beyond 
measure  at  this  most  unaccountable  scene. 

"  Will  you  take  my  word  for  it,  that  this  man, 
who  seems  most  conscious  of  his  guilt,  deceived — 
yes,  lied  to  Burnett  &  Co.,  and  swindled  them  out 
of  so  large  a  sum  of  money  that  the  firm  would 
have  failed  but  for  me  ?  Because,  if  you  cannot  take 
my  word,  I  can  give  you  absolute  proof." 

Annie  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  said  : 
"  Now  I  understand  all  this  wretched  mystery. 
How  I  have  wronged  Mr.  Gregory  !  " 

"  You  could  not  do  other  than  wrong  him  while 
Mr.  Hunting  had  any  influence  over  you.  I  know 
Mr.  Gregory  well.  He  is  an  honorable  business 
man,  and  always  was,  with  all  his  faults.  And  now, 
sir,  for  your  satisfaction,  let  me  inform  you  that  Mr. 
Burnett  is  one  of  my  most  intimate  friends.  He 
told  me  all  about  it,  and  gave  ample  proof  of  the 
nature  of  the  entire  transaction.  I  am  connected 
with  the  bank  with  which  the  firm  deposited,  and 
through  my  influence  I  secured  them  such  accom 
modation  as  tided  them  over  the  critical  time  in 
their  affairs  which  your  villainy  had  occasioned." 

Hunting  now  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to 
say,  "  I  did  nothing  different  from  what  often  oc 
curs  in  business.  I  had  a  legal  rigfct  to  every  cent 
that  I  collected  from  Burnett  &  Co." 

"  But  how  about  moral  right  ?  Do  we  not  all 
know  that  often  the  most  barefaced  robberies  take 


UNMASKED.    •  545 

plaice  within  the  limits  of  the  law  ?  And  such  was 
your  act.  Even  the  hardened  gamblers  of  the 
street  were  disgusted." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  in  this  way, 
sir,"  said  Hunting,  trying  to  work  up  a  little  indig 
nation.  "  Mr.  Walton  trusted  me,  and  I  became 
engaged  to  Miss  Walton  under  circumstances  the 
most  solemn  and  sacred  ;  we  are  the  same  as  mar 
ried." 

"  Come,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr.  Kemp,  hotly, 
"  don't  make  me  lose  my  temper.  John  Walton 
was  the  soul  of  Christian  honor.  He  would  have 
buried  his  daughter  rather  than  have  her  marry 
you,  if  he  had  known  you  as  I  do.  I  now  insist 
that  you  resign  your  executcrship  and  relieve  us  of 
your  presence." 

"  Annie,"  cried  Hunting,  in  a  voice  of  anguish, 
"  can  you  sit  quietly  by  and  hear  me  so  insulted  ?  " 

She  sat  with  her  face,  burning  with  shame, 
buried  in  her  hands.  With  her  intense  Walton  ha 
tred  of  deceit,  the  thought  that  she  had  come  so  near 
marrying  a  swindler  and  liar,  scorched  her  very  soul. 

He  came  to  her  side  and  tried  to  take  her  hand, 
but  she  shrank  from  him  in  loathing,  and.  springing 
up,  said  passionately,  "When  I  think,  sir,  that  with 
this  guilty  secret  you  would  have  tricked  me  into 
marriage  at  my  father's  death-bed,  I  am  perfectly 
appalled  at  your  wickedness.  God  in  mercy  then 
snatched  me  from  a  fate  worse  than  death.  Were 
it  not  for  the  restraint  of  Christian  principle  I  would 
feel  that  I  could  annihilate  you." 


546  OPENING  A  CHESNUT  BURR. 

She  turned  away  for  a  moment  and  pressed  her 
hands  upon  her  throbbing  heart.  Then  turning  her 
dark  and  flashing  eyes  to  where  he  stood,  pale, 
speechless,  and  trembling,  she  said  more  calmly, 
"May  God  forgive  you;  I  will  when  I  can,  and  will 
pray  that  in  mercy  He  will  keep  you  from  sinking 
into  a  deeper  and  darker  gulf  than  yawned  beneath 
you  on  the  sinking  ship.  Go." 

She  proved  what  is  often  true,  that  the  gentle, 
when  desperately  wronged,  are  the  most  terrible. 

He  slunk  cowering  away  without  a  word,  and  to 
avoid  exposure,  Mr.  Kemp  at  once  compelled  him 
to  sign  papers  that  took  from  him  all  further  power 
of  mischief.  Mr.  Kemp  eventually  became  executor 
in  his  stead. 

As  soon  as  Annie  grew  calmer  she  had  a  glad 
sense  of  escape  greater  than  that  which  followed 
her  rescue  from  the  wrecked  ship.  Before,  her 
heart  had  been  crying  out  with  the  Apostle,  "  Who 
shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of  death  ?  "  Now 
it  sprang  up  within  her  bosom  and  sang  for  joy. 
Then  again  she  would  shudder  deeply  at  what  she 
had  so  narrowly  avoided.  Stronger  than  her  grati 
tude  for  l^e  twice  saved,  was  her  feeling  of  obliga 
tion  to  Gregory  for  his  persistent  effort  to  shield 
her  from  this  marriage.  She  was  eager  to  start  for 
Paris  at  Once  that  she  might  ask  forgiveness  for  all 
her  injustice  toward  him.  But  in  the  excess  of  her 
feelings  she  was  far  more  unjust  toward  herself,  as 
he  would  have  told  her. 

Still,   had   not    Hunting's   dishonesty  been   re- 


UNMASKED. 

vealed-to  her,  Annie  would  have  broken  with  him. 
As  soon  as  she  would  gain  her  mental  strength  and 
poise — as  soon  as  she  realized  that  her  love  was 
hopelessly  gone  from  him,  her  true,  strong  nature 
would  revolt  from  the  marriage  as  from  a  crime, 
and  she  would  have  told  him,  in  deepest  pity,  but 
with  rock-like  firmness,  that  it  could  not  be. 

The  next  day  she  greatly  relented  toward  him 
and,  in  her  deep  pity,  sent  a  kind  farewell  message 
which  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  heed. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
A  CHESTNUT  BURR  AND  A  HOME. 

WHEN  Gregory  reached  Paris,  to  his  grief 
and  consternation,  he  found  a  dispatch 
informing  him  of  the  sudden  death  of  old  Mr.  Bur 
nett,  and  the  illness  of  Mr.  Seymour,  the  other 
partner.  "Return  instantly,"  it  read,  "the  senior 
clerk  is  coming  out  to  take  your  place." 

At  first  it  appeared  a  double  grief  that  he  could 
scarcely  endure,  for  it  seemed  that  if  he  went  back 
now,  Annie  would  be  lost  to  him  beyond  hope. 
But  after  thinking  it  all  over  he  became  calmer. 
"  It  may  be  best  after  all,  for  as  my  wife  she  is  lost 
to  me  beyond  hope,  and  God  sees  that  I  am  not 
strong  enough  to  meet  her  often  yet  and  sustain 
myself,  and  so  snatches  me  from  the  temptation." 
^^  Thus  little  children  guess  at  the  meaning  of  an 
earthly  father,  but  Gregory  did  what  a  child  should 
— trusted. 

He  wrote  a  warm  but  hasty  note  to  Annie 
which  through  some  carelessness  was  never  deliv 
ered,  attended  to  some  necessary  matters,  and  was 
just  in  time  to  catch  the  French  steamer  outward 
bound. 

When  Annie  reached  Earis,  she  learned  in  dis 
may  that  he  had  sailed  for  New  York.  Seemingly, 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN. 


549 


he  had  left  no  message,  no  explanation ;  all  they 
could  learn  at  his  hotel  was  that  he  had  received  a 
dispatch  summoning  him  instantly  home.  Annie 
was  deeply  wounded,  though  she  tried  to  believe  that 
he  had  written  and  that  the  letter  had  been  mis- 
sent  or  lost.  A  thousand  conjectures  of  evil  arose 
in  her  mind,  and  the  thought  of  his  being  again  on 
the  ocean,  which  she  now  so  dreaded,  at  the  storm 
iest  season  of  the  year,  was  a  constant  source  of 
anxiety.  In  her  morbid  fears  she  even  thought  that 
the  scheming  Hunting  might  have  something  to  do 
with  it.  She  gave  way  to  the  deepest  despondency. 
Then  her  Aunt  tried  to  comfort  her  by  saying: 

"  Annie,  I'm  sure  I  understand  you  both  better 
than  you  do  each  other,  and  think  I  can  write  Mr. 
Gregory  a  line  that  will  clear  up  everything." 

But  the  quiet  little  lady  was  quite  frightened 
by  the  way  Annie  turned  upon  her. 

"  As  you  love  me,  Auntie,"  she  said,  "  never 
write  a  line  on  this  subject.  I  am  not  one  to  seek, 
but  must  be  sought,  even  by  Gregory.  Not  one 
line,  I  charge  you,  containing  a  hint  of  my  feelings." 

"  Well,  Annie  darling,"  she  said,  gently,  "  it's 
all  going  to  come  out  right." 

But  Annie,  in  her  weak,  depressed  state,  saw 
only  the  dark  side.  As  with  Gregory,  there  was 
nothing  for  her  but  patient  trust." 

But  when,  in  due  time,  there  came  a  despatch 
from  him  announcing  his  safe  arrival,  she  was 
greatly  reassured.  The  light  came  back  into  her 
eyes  and  the  color  in  her  cheeks. 


550  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  What  kind  of  medicine  have  you  been  taking, 
to-day?"  asked  her  uncle,  slyly. 

"  She  has  been  treated  with  electricity,"  Miss 
Eulie  remarked,  quietly. 

"  O,  Auntie !  "  said  Annie,  with  a  deep  blush, 
"  when  did  I  ever  hear  you  indulge  in  such  a  witti 
cism  before  ?  " 

And  when,  some  days  later,  she  received  a  cor 
dial,  brotherly  letter  from  Gregory,  rejating  all  that 
had  occurred,  a  deep  content  stole  into  her  heart, 
and  she  felt,  with  Miss  Eulie,  that  all  would  event 
ually  be  well.  She  replied  scrupulously,  in  like  vein 
with  himself,  and  thus  commenced  a  correspondence 
that  to  each  became  the  source  of  the  truest  happi 
ness.  Their  letters  were  intensely  brotherly  and 
sisterly  in  their  character,  but  Annie  felt  almost 
sure  that,  under  his  fraternal  disguise,  she  detected 
the  warmth  and  glow  of  a  far  stronger  affection ; 
and,  before  many  months  had  passed,  he  hoped  the 
same  of  her  dainty  letters,  though  he  could  not  lay 
his  finger  on  a  single  word  and  say,  "  This  proves 
it."  But  Annie's  warm  heart  unconsciously  colored 
the  pages,  nevertheless. 

Of  Hunting  he  briefly  wrote :  "  God  pity  him, 
and  God  be  praised.  I  love  Him  more  than  ever 
for  shielding  you." 

In  May,  Gregory  was  glad  to  find  that  he  would 
have  to  go  to  Europe  again,  and  purposed  to  give 
Annie  a  surprise.  But  he  only  received  a  very  sad 
one  himself,  for,  on  arriving  at  Paris,  he  learned,  to 
his  intense  disappointment,  that  Mr.  Kemp  and  his 


THE  CHESTNUT  B  URR  A  GAIN.  5  5 1 

party  had  suddenly  decided  to  return  home.  He 
was  eventually  comforted  by  receiving  a  letter 
from  Annie,  showing  clearly  that  she  had  been  as 
greatly  disappointed  as  himself;  but,  woman-like, 
most  of  the  letter  was  an  effort  to  cheer  him. 

Still  he  was  almost  growing  superstitious  at  the 
manner  in  which  she  seemed  to  elude  his  loving 
grasp  and  sighed : 

"  I  fear  she  will  always  prove  to  me  a  spirit  of 
the  air." 

One  bright  morning,  the  ensuifig  October,  Greg 
ory  again  greeted,  like  the  face  of  a  friend,  the 
shores  of  his  native  land,  and  the  thought  that 
Annie  was  beyond  that  blue  line  of  land,  thrilled  his 
heart  with  impatient  expectation. 

As  they  approached  Sandy  Hook,  the  pilot 
brought  aboard  a  New  York  paper,  and  as  he  was 
carelessly  glancing  it  over,  his  eyes  were  caught  by 
an  advertisement  of  the  sale  by  auction  of  the  Wal 
ton  Estate,  and  his  old  home.  He  saw  by  the  date 
that  the  sale  would  not  take  place  till  the  following 
day,  and  he  now  felt  sure  that  he  could  give  Annie 
a  double  surprise,  for  he  had  not  written  of  his  return. 
He  had  learned  from  Annie  that  her  father  must 
have  intrusted  large  sums  to  Hunting  which 
could  not  be  accounted  for,  and  that  beyond 
the  country-place  not  much  had  been  left.  He  right 
ly  guessed  that  this  place  was  about  to  be  sold  to 
provide  means  for  the  support  of  the  family.  He 
was  surprised  that  Annie  had  not  written  to  him 
about  the  sale,  and  indeed  she  had  wished  to,  think- 


552 


OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 


ing  that  he  might  wish  to  buy  it.  But  Mr.  Kemp 
had  dissuaded  her,  saying  that  it  was  not  at  all  prob 
able  that  Gregory  had  the  means  to  buy  so  large 
a  property,  and,  judging  Gregory  by  himself,  said  : 

"  A  business  man  does  not  want  a  country  place 
anyway.  Besides,  Annie,  if  you  should  suggest  it, 
it  might  be  a  source  of  much  pain  to  him  to  feel 
that  he  could  not." 

But  as  soon  as  Gregory  was  ashore  he  hunted  up 
one  of  his  senior  clerks,  and  instructed  him  to  go 
up  the  following  morning  and  buy  the  place  at  any 
cost,  but  not  to  let  any  one  know  it  was  for  him. 
He  also  told  him  to  assure  the  family  that  they 
need  not  vacate  in  any  haste. 

It  soon  became  evident  at  the  sale  that  the 
stranger  from  the  city  was  determined  to  have  the 
place,  and  the  other  bidders  gave  way. 

When  the  clerk  returned  that  evening,  Gregory 
plied  him  with  questions,  and  learned  that  Miss 
Walton  seemed  to  have  great  regret  at  leaving, 
and  was  very  grateful  when  told  that  she  could 
take  her  own  time  for  departure.  In  fact,  Annie 
begrudged  every  October  day  at  the  old  place,  that 
brought  back  the  past  so  vividly.  Gregory  could 
not  forbear  asking  with  a  slight  flush, 
"  How  did  Miss  Walton  look?  " 
"  Like  her  surroundings,"  said  the  clerk,  politely 
blind,  "  and  not  like  a  city  belle.  Mr.  Gregory,  I 
congratulate  you  on  possessing  the  most  home-like 
place  on  the  river." 

Gregory  took  the    earliest  train  the  following 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN. 


553 


morning,  and  by  noon  found  himself  by  the  cedar 
thicket  again,  with  a  strange  thrill,  as  he  recalled  all 
that  had  occurred  there,  and  since.  He  sat  down 
to  rest  for  a  moment  on  the  rock  where  Annie  had 
first  found  him  more  than  a  year  before.  Beneath 
him  lay  his  home — his  now  in  truth — embowered 
in  crimson  and  golden  foliage,  that  seemed  doubly 
bright  in  the  genial  October  sunlight,  while  at  his 
very  feet  were  the  laden  boughs  of  the  orchard 
where  he  had  proved  to  Annie  the  reality  and  depth 
of  his  love ;  and  there  beyond  was  the  cottage  of 
Daddy  Tuggar,  with  that  old  man  smoking  upon 
the  porch.  But  chief  of  all,  he  could  mark  the 
very  spot  by  the  brook  in  the  garden  where  Annie's 
hand,  like  an  angel's,  had  plucked  him  from  the 
brink  of  despair,  and  given  the  first  faint  hope  of 
immortal  life.  Tears  blinded  his  eyes,  but  the  bow 
of  promise  shone  in  them  as  he  looked  heavenward, 
and  said, 

/\x"  Merciful  Father !  how  kind  of  Thee,  in  view  ot 
my  past,  to  give  me  this  dear  earnest  of  my  heaven 
ly  home." 

The  sound  of  approaching  steps  aroused  him, 
and  springing  up  he  saw  through  the  thicket,  with 
an  emotion  so  deep  that  it  made  him  tremble,  the 
one  woman  of  the  world  to  him. 

With  an  expression  of  deep  sadness,  and  the 
manner  of  one  taking  a  lingering  leave  of  a  very 
dear  friend,  Annie  came  slowly  toward  him  along 
the  brow  of  the  hill.  He  tried  to  still  even  the 
beating  of  his  heart,  for  he  would  not  lose  even  one 

24 


554  OPENING  A  CHESTN UT  B  URR. 

moment  of  exquisite  anticipation.  And  yet  he  was 
deeply  agitated,  for  he  knew  that  he  could  not 
maintain  the  brotherly  disguise  an  hour  longer. 

Suddenly  she  looked  toward  the  cedar  thicket, 
and,  as  if  recalling  what  had  occurred  there,  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  to  hide  the  painful 
scene.  Then  he  saw  that  she  would  not  even  come 
to  the  place,  but  was  turning  to  go  to  the  house  by 
another  way. 

He  darted  out  from  his  concealment  and  rushed 
toward  her.  At  first,  in  wild  alarm,  she  put  her 
hand  to  her  side,  and  leaned  against  a  chestnut  tree 
for  support.  Then  recognizing  him,  with  a  glad  cry, 
she  permitted  him  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  while 
she  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder.  A  moment  later 
they  recoiled  from  each  other  in  blushing  confusion. 

"  Well,"  said  Gregory,  stupidly. 

She  was  the  first  to  recover  herself,  and  said : 

"  Oh,  Walter,  my  long-lost  brother !  I'm  so — so 
glad  you  have  come  at  last !  " 

"Do  I  look  sorry,  little  sister?"  he  asked,  tak 
ing  her  hand. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  "  this  is  too  good  to  be 
true!" 

"  That's  what  I  think.  I  feared  you  would 
take  flight  the  moment  I  appeared." 

"  When  did  you  arrive  ?  Come;  tell  me  every 
thing." 

"  Not  all  at  once,  dear — Annie.  But  let  me 
give  you  a  seat  on  the  rock  by  the  thicket  and  then 
I  will  say  the  catechism." 


THE  CHESTNUT  B  URR  A  GA IN.  555 

"  Please,  no  Walter,  not  there,"  she  said  draw- 
ing  back. 

"  Yes,  there,  we  will  give  that  place  a  iftw  asso 
ciation." 

But  she  was  glad  to  reach  the  seat,  for  she 
trembled  so  she  could  hardly  stand. 

Then  he  told  her  how  he  purposed  to  surprise 
her,  and  answered  every  eager  question. 

"O  Annie  !  "  he  concluded,  "  how  I  have  longed 
for  this  hour,  never  did  that  dreadful  ocean  seem  so 
wide  before." 

She  looked  at  him  more  fondly  than  she  knew 
and  said  : 

"Ah  Walter!  your  blood  is  not  on  my  hands 
after  all." 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said. 

"  I  know  it  is  not,"  she  replied,  putting  them 
'  behind  her  back,  "  don't  I  see  you  there  well  and 
happy?" 

"  I  don't  know  but  it  will  be  on  your  hands  yet," 
he  said  half  tragically,  springing  up. 

She  gave  him  a  swift  look  of  inquiry,  but  her 
eyes  dropped  as  quick'y  beneath  his  eager  gaze, 
while  her  deep  blush  caused  her  to  vie  with  the 
sugar-maple  on  the  lawn  in  very  truth.  But  he  said 
after  a  moment, 

"  Annie,  dear,  wont  you  let  me  interpret  another 
chestnut  burr  for  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Walter,"  she  tried  to  say  innocent 
ly,  "  all  that  are  on  the  tree." 

"  Now  don't  make  fun  of  me  because  I'm  des- 


556  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

parately  in  earnest.  I  don't  want  one  like  that  I 
chose  mth  a  great  lonely  worm-infested  chestnut 
in  it.  Wnat  a  good,  wholesome  lesson  you  gave  me 
then  !  Thank  you,  Annie,  darling." 

"  Brothers  don't  use  such  strong  language  toward 
their  sisters,"  said  Annie,  looking  on  the  ground. 

"  I  can't  help  it.  To  tell  the  honest  truth  I'm 
not  much  of  a  brother.  Neither  do  I  want  one  like 
that  which  you  chose  with  three  chestnuts  in  it. 
Three,  faugh  !  I've  had  enough  of  that.  I  want  to 
find  one  like  that  which  you  brought  me  the  first 
day  I  met  you  here." 

"  You  will  never  find  it  if  you  stand  talking  for 
ever." 

"You  won't  go  away  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not." 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully,  but  she  would  not 
meet  his  eye.  Then  he  started  on  his  search,  but 
kept  looking  back  so  often  that  she  laughed,  and 
said  :  "  I'm  not  a  chestnut  burr." 

"I'm  afraid  of  you." 

•'<  Then  you  had  better  run  away." 

"  Sisters  should'nt  teaze  their  brothers." 

"  Well,  forgive  me  this  time." 

He  caught  a  branch  full  of  half-open  burrs,  and 
peered  eagerly  in  them  till  he  found  one  to  his 
mind,  and  pulled  it  off  regardless  of  the  pricking 
spines,  then  came  and  knelt  at  her  side,  and  said  : 

"  Now  Annie,  dear,  look  into  it  carefully.  This 
is  nature's  oracle.  You  see  two  solid,  plump,  chest 
nuts." 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN. 


557 


"Well?"  she  said,  faintly. 

"  And  you  see  this  false,  empty  form  of  shell, 
between  them  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  "  with  a  touch  of  sadness. 

"  That's  Hunting,  poor  wretch !  How  unspeak 
able  was  his  loss ! "  and  he  tossed  the  worthless 
emblem  away. 

"  And  now,  Annie,  loved  beyond  all  words  I  can 
ever  find  to  tell  you,  see  how  near  these  two  chest 
nuts  are  together — as  near  as  you  and  I  are  in 
heart,  I  trust.  Surely  my  poor  pretense  of  brotherly 
character  has  not  deceived  you  for  a  moment. 
Won't  you  please  put  your  dainty  little  fingers  down 
in  the  burr  and  join  the  two  together?" 

She  lifted  her  drooping  eyes  a  moment  to  the 
more  eloquent  pleading  of  his  face,  but  they  fell  as 
speedily. 

In  a  low,  thrilling  tone,  she  said : 

"  No,  Walter,  but  you  may.^' 

He  dropped  the  burr  and  sealed  the  unspoken 
covenant  upon  her  lips. 

After  a  few  moments  he  said,  very  gently,  and 
gravely,  "  Annie,  do  you  remember  when  my  arm 
last  encircled  you  ?  " 

The  crimson  face  turned  pale,  as  she  recalled 
that  awful  midnight  when  he  rescued  her  from 
death. 

Both  breathed  fervently,  "  How  good  God  has 
been  to  us !" 

In  their  joy,  as  in  fear  and  sorrow,  they  remem 
red  Him. 


558  OPENING  A  CHESTNUT  BURR. 

"  Oh,  see!  "  cried  Annie,  "your hands  are  bleed 
ing  where  the  burr  pricked  them,  and  you  have 
stained  my  hands  again.  Your  blood  is  on  them/' 
she  added  almost  in  fear. 

^  "  Yes,  and  the  best  of  my  heart  ever  will  be.  Is 
not  the  *  blood  upon  us '  the  deepest  and  most 
sacred  hope  of  our  hearts  ?  Is  it  not  the  proof  of 
the  strongest  love  the  world  has  known  ?  Let  mine 
there  be  the  pledge  that  my  life  is  as  nothing  when 
it  can  shield  and  shelter  you." 

And  so  he  changed  the  meaning  of  the  omen. 

The  hours  passed  ere  they  .were  aware;  at  last 
they  went  across  the  orchard  as  before,  and  stopped 
and  looked  at  the  place  where  the  ladder  fell,  and 
then  at  each  other. 

"  Walter,"  said  Annie  shyly,  "  I  gave  you  my 
first  kiss  here." 

"  I  am  repaid  then." 

Before  going  to  the  house,  they  called  on  Daddy 
Tuggar.  He  was  so  amazed  that  he  could  only 
ejaculate, 

"  Evenin'." 

"  Mr.  Tuggar,  I  have  acted  on  your  suggestion," 
said  Gregory.  "  I  thought  Miss  Walton  would  be 
good  company  forever  and  ever,  and  I  have  the 
promise  of  it." 

"  To  think  that  I  should  have  cussed  you !  " 
said  the  old  man,  in  an  awed  tone. 

"  But  you  will  give  us  your  blessing,  now?  "  said 
Annie,  smiling. 

"  My  blessin'  aint  worth   nothin' ;    but  I  know 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  559 

the  good  Lord  will  bless  you  both,  even  if  Miss  An 
nie  never  was  a  dreadful  sinner." 

"  Mr.  Tuggar,"  said  Gregory,  "  I  own  that 
place  over  there.  Will  you  take  me  for  a  neigh 
bor  till  you  are  ready  to  be  Mr.  Walton's  ?  " 

"O,  Walter!"  said  Annie,  with  a  glad  cry,  is 
that  really  true  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  became  mine  yesterday ;  or,  rather,  it 
remained  yours." 

"  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Daddy  Tuggar,  his  quaint 
face  twitching  strangely,  "if  anybody  steals  your 
apples  I'm  afraid  I'll  swear  at  'em,  even  yet." 

"  No  you  won't,  Daddy,"  said  he,  "  you  will  tell 
them  that  they  are  dreadful  sinners.  But  I'm  going 
to  bring  you  over  to  spend  an  evening  with  us, 
soon.  Good-by ! " 

They  found  Miss  Eulie  in  the  parlor,  pensively 
packing  up  some  dear  little  relics  of  a  home  she 
supposed  lost.  Gregory  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
said: 

"  Auntie,  (I'm  going  to  claim  relationship  right 
away,)  put  those  things  back  where  you  found  them, 
and  sit  down  here  in  the  cosiest  .corner  of  the  hearth, 
your  place  from  this  time  forth." 

"  How  is  this?  "  she  exclaimed,  in  breathless  as 
tonishment. 

"  Well,  Annie  owns  me,  and  therefore,  this 
place." 

Johnnie  came  bounding  in,  and  Gregory  caught 
him,  and  said : 

"  Here  is  the   prophet  of  my  fate.     How  did 


56o 


OPENING  A   CHESTNUT  BURR. 


you  tell  me  your  Aunt  Annie  managed  the  people, 
the  morning  after  my  first  arrival  here?" 

"  I  said  she  kinder  made  people  love  UeV,  and 
then  they  wanted  to  do  as  she  said,"  replied  the 
boy,  timidly. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  secret,"  and  he  drew  the  boy 
and  whispered  in  his  ear :  "  She  is  going  to  manage 
me  on  just  those  terms." 

"  Then  little*  Susie  came  sidling  in,  and  Gregory 
ran  and  caught  her  arms,  saying, 

"  So  dimpled,  yet  so  false,  you  renounced  me 
for  a  chipmonk ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  be  Aunt 
Annie's  beau  till  I'm  gray." 

Then  Jeff  came  in  with  a  basket  of  wood 
Gregory  gave  his  black  hand  an  honest  shake,  and 
said, 

"  Why,  Jeff,  old  fellow,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  to-night  ?  The  last  time  I  saw  you  you  looked 
as  if  you  were  driving  me  to  the  cemetery." 

"  Well,  Misser  Gregory,"  said  Jeff,  ducking  and 
shuffling,  "  Ise  did  come  mighty  nea  takin'  de 
turnin'  to  the  cem'try  dat  day.  I  tho't  you  looked 
as  if  you  wanted  to  go  dar." 

As  they  sat  down  to  tea,  Zibbie  put  her  head  In 
the  door,  and  said, 

"  The  gude  God  bless  ye,  for  ye  ha  kept  the  ould 
'ooman  fra  the  cold  wourld  yet." 

Delighted  Hannah  could  not  pass  a  biscuit  with 
out  a  courtesy. 

That  evening  the  hickory  fire  glowed  and  turned 
to  bright  and  fragrant  coals  as  in  the  days  past,  but 


THE  CHESTNUT  BURR  AGAIN.  561 

Annie  looked  wistfully  toward  her  father's  vacant 
chair,  and  sighed, 

"If  father  were  only  here !  " 

"  Don't  grieve,  darling,"  said  Gregory,  tenderly 
"  He  is  at  home,  as  we  are." 

*  A  few  evenings  later  Gregory  brought  up  from 
the  city  a  large  square  bundle. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?  "  said  Annie,  greeting 
him  as  the  reader  can  imagine. 

"  Your  epitaph." 

"O  Walter,  so  soon?" 

His  answer  was  a  smile,  and  quickly  opening  it, 
showed  a  rich  quaint  frame  containing  some  lines  in 
illuminated  text.  Placing  it  where  the  light  fell 
clearly,  he  drew  her  to  him  and  said, 

"  Read  that." 

"  God  sent  his  messenger  of  faith, 
And  whispered  in  the  maiden's  heart,     „ 
4  Rise  up  and  look  from  where  thou  art, 
And  scatter  with  unselfish  hands, 
Thy  freshness  on  the  barren  sands. 
And  solitudes  of  death.'  " 

"  O  beauty  of  holiness, 
Of  self-forgetfulness ! " 

With  a  caress  of  unspeakable  tenderness  he  said 
1  You  are  the  maiden  and  God  sent  you  to  me." 


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Opening  a  chestnut  burr. 


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